


Speechless

by thesewarmstars



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Snape, HP: EWE, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Past Attempted Suicide, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-15
Updated: 2009-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesewarmstars/pseuds/thesewarmstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nine months after the final battle, Harry discovers Snape in St. Mungo’s, still suffering from a curse.  The healers are doing anything but their jobs, so Harry takes it on himself to rehabilitate the man he’s learning to respect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All of canon is canon, except for certain (ahem) aspects of the final battle which should become apparent, and of course that scary epilogue. Huge thanks to atypicalsnowman for the beta!

“Oh Hermione, she’s beautiful,” Harry cooed, gazing at the newborn cradled in Molly Weasley’s arms.

“Isn’t she?” Hermione beamed. Harry was frankly amazed at her ability to be completely exhausted, moderately drugged, red-faced and sweaty with exertion, and swollen and still have the ability to beam. He supposed childbirth did that to a person. He felt a momentary pang at the thought that he would never really have a family of his own, but quashed it quickly. This was no time to be feeling sorry for himself.

Suddenly, tears starting streaming down Hermione’s cheeks, but Harry suspected it had little to do with childbirth. When he thought of Ron and how he’d never get to meet his daughter—had never even known he was going to have one—it made him get a bit teary-eyed, too.

“Life’s not fair,” he pointed out to no one in particular.

Soon, Hermione’s parents came back from getting tea and the rest of the Weasley family—or what was left of it—arrived at last.

“Wonderful gums,” Mr. Granger observed while his wife nodded approvingly.

Harry decided it was his turn to take a break, and what with the noise level and whirlwind of people he figured now was the time. He loved them all dearly, but the room was small and he was starting to feel claustrophobic, so he excused himself.

He wasn’t hungry or thirsty, so he roamed the halls. He didn't pay any particular attention to where he was going, and after a while he realized he had no idea which ward he was in anymore. The sound of babies screaming had long since faded, so it certainly wasn’t maternity. He looked around for a sign to tell him where he was, and the first one he saw was next to a door, handwritten on parchment. 

It read, “SNAPE, S.”

Now he _really_ wished he knew what ward this was. What was Snape doing here? What was wrong with him? He knew he’d been hexed in the final battle—really, who hadn’t?—but that was nine months ago now. Harry couldn’t remember what the curse was, but surely Snape should have recovered by now.

XXXXX

As Harry’s head appeared in his friend’s fireplace, he could hear chimes announcing the connection. He called out anyway.

“Hermione, you home? It’s Harry!”

Just when he was beginning to suspect that she had either been devoured by a rabid household pest or she really wasn’t home, his vision was filled with bushy-haired girl kneeling on the hearth.

“Harry! I was wondering how long it would take you to call. Come on through,” she said all in one breath.

A few seconds and a rather graceless stumble later, Harry was being hugged for all he was worth.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Harry said with what little air he felt he could spare. Finally, he was released and held by his shoulders at arm’s length.

“I’m so glad you stopped by. But if I hear one word out of you about my eating habits or proper swaddling technique or how I should really just move in with you, I’ll hex you into next week. Understand?”

Harry grinned. “Not a peep. I take it they’ve been ‘round quite a bit then?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Hermione groaned. “Between Mum and Molly, I think I may actually suffocate. I mean, I really appreciate all their help and honestly I’d probably be lost without them, but there has got to be a better way.”

“Well, I promise not to mother you, all right? I can tell from the tirade that you’re recovering just fine, so I won’t even ask. Now, how about this goddaughter of mine? Do I get to see? I promise not to fawn—too much.”

She smiled gratefully, said, “She’s sleeping right now, but we can look in on her,” and took his hand to lead him to the nursery. 

It was fairly dark, but Harry could see the tiny, purple-clad baby asleep in her cot well enough. Her fuzzy hair was red, but not shockingly so like her father’s had been. He whispered, “Sleep well, little Rosie,” and they tiptoed out of the room. Once they were back in the sitting room comfortably folded into chairs, Harry said, “I like her better this way.”

“What, sleeping? Me, too.”

Harry laughed. “No, I mean not all red and squished and blotchy.”

“Yes well, there’s that, too. It’s a wonder the difference two weeks makes.”

“Yeah. So, I’m going to assume you’re sick and tired of talking about nothing but babies and baby-related things, right?”

“What’s on your mind, Harry?” Trust Hermione to get right down to business.

“It’s about Snape, believe it or not.”

“Professor Snape,” she corrected automatically.

“Actually, it’s not anymore. After Rose was born, I took a walk around St. Mungo’s and I found his room. He’s been there ever since the final battle. Did you know he’d been cursed?”

“Well, everyone was cursed a couple of times,” she said and Harry hoped she wasn’t thinking of Ron. She seemed just fine, though. “I didn’t know his was so severe. How is he doing? Did you talk to him?”

“That’s the thing—I couldn’t talk to him because he’s in a magically induced coma and has been since he was admitted. Apparently someone cursed his tongue out of existence. None of the healers knew the countercurse, and he wasn’t able to feed himself or even swallow at all, so they put him in a coma to make him less of an inconvenience.”

He dropped his head into his hand and continued. “It was awful. His lips were so dry they were cracked and bleeding, and his skin was all grayish and practically see-through, and he was so thin. And the smell! It’s obvious they just dumped him in that room nine months ago and haven’t bathed him or changed his gown or changed his sheets or even done a goddamn cleaning charm since! The healers couldn’t even tell me who was in charge of his case—none of them wants anything to do with him.”

He lifted his head to look her in the eye and felt the sting of threatening tears.

Hermione spoke softly, cautiously. “You’re right, Harry, it sounds awful. And you’re right to be angry and upset. But I thought—I mean you’ve never particularly… don’t you hate him?”

“I did. I really did. When I saw his name beside the door, I thought, ‘Good, he deserves whatever it is he’s here for.’ But then I saw him and I couldn’t hate him anymore. I really looked at him for the first time, and I could see that he’s a good man, an honorable man. I could see how much he’s sacrificed for the Order. And no one deserves that kind of treatment—least of all him! He’s a goddamn hero, for fuck’s sake!”

“I agree, Harry, but there’s no need to raise your voice,” she said, glancing meaningfully toward the hall that led to the nursery. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Ah, well. I went through a lot of the books I kept from Grimmauld Place. I couldn’t find the countercurse—I couldn’t even find the curse, actually—but I did find a healing spell that will grow him a new tongue.”

“Well, that’s wonderful!”

Harry nodded. “Yes, but he’s still going to have a long, hard recovery ahead of him, and I can’t leave him there. You didn’t see him, Hermione. I can’t leave him there.”

“Maybe you could try to have him transferred to another hospital,” she said thoughtfully. “I don’t know. Did you have something in mind?”

He squirmed a bit. “Well, I’ve got a guestroom, you know. And Alfonso can work full-time for a few weeks until I have more time for the shop. I’ve been reading all the caregivers manuals and stuff that I can get my hands on, and I think I can help him.”

He braced himself for the rant he expected was coming. How he couldn’t possibly, and what could he be thinking, and he was taking on too much responsibility. So he was shocked when Hermione nodded.

“Yes. I’d wager you can help him.” There was a moment of silence before she took a breath to say something else, and he thought here it comes, here’s the ‘but’.

“So how _is_ the shop doing?”

He could have kissed her.

XXXXX

He drifted to consciousness as if through several feet of water. His mind was fuzzy and his body seemed totally non-responsive. Eventually, he got his eyelids to open.

His eyes darted frantically around the room—he did not recognize it at all. It did not look much like a torture chamber, but one could never be sure about such things. He was starting to really panic when a voice broke through his awareness. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but he was able to turn his head a bit in the direction of the voice.

The owner of the voice was seated in a chair beside his bed, hunched over a book. He must have been reading aloud.

He had familiar hair, but his face was hidden.

He tried to open his mouth and ask something along the lines of, ‘What in seven hells is going on?’ or ‘Who in blazes are you and why can’t I move?’ but his mouth, which felt several sizes too large, refused to cooperate and all that came out was a low moan.

The voice stopped reading and the head with the familiar hair snapped up to reveal a familiar face. He wondered what exactly he had done to deserve this kind of torture. 

And what precisely was that brat’s name?

“You’re awake!”

Severus wanted to roll his eyes and make a remark about stating the obvious, or perhaps just ask him a thousand questions—Where am I? What happened to me? Where is my wand? What time is it?

Again, he tried to open his mouth and nothing happened.

“You probably shouldn’t try to talk. It’s not going to work, in any case. It’s Harry. Potter. You remember me, right?”

Of course, Harry sodding Potter.

“I know you have lots of questions, so I’ll do my best to answer without you having to ask. First of all, you’re safe here. I know it’s hard, but please try to believe me. I mean you no harm. Oh, and ‘here’ is my guestroom. It’s not much, but it’s better than…anyway. Um, it’s March seventeenth, 1999, if you want to know. The final battle was ten months ago, which we won, by the way. Voldemort’s dead.”

Severus tried to take in all this information—ten months gone? The Dark Lord dead?—assuming it was even true, but apparently there was still more.

“It seems you were hexed during the battle—someone cursed out your tongue. Somehow, you got to St. Mungo’s… not that it did you much good. They didn’t know how to fix you, and, well. They were sorry excuses for Healers. I’m so sorry about the way they treated you, and I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I found you about a month ago, by the way. I was able to find the right spell and grow you a new tongue, and then I brought you here.”

Parts of it made sense. He remembered being hexed with something he didn’t recognize. But how did losing his tongue translate to not remembering the last ten months? What exactly had happened at St. Mungo’s?

Potter started speaking again, almost as if to himself, and unwittingly answered his question. “They had you in a magically induced coma. For nine months they made you sleep, all so they wouldn’t have to take proper care of you. I couldn’t believe what they were doing to you—it was barbaric. Like you were some kind of animal.”

His voice was low, but he sounded outraged. Severus couldn’t imagine why.

Potter looked up. “But you’re safe now, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you make a full recovery.”

He was still confused and there were still questions floating around in his head, but he couldn’t even think what they were. At the moment all he could do was fall back asleep.

XXXXX

The next time Snape woke up, Harry was reading to him again. He stopped when he noticed Snape’s eyes scanning the room in terror, and was grateful that after a moment he must have remembered their conversation because the terror faded.

“Good afternoon,” Harry said, trying to sound cheerful, but not too annoying. “I know your tongue is still swollen and probably feels totally foreign, but hopefully you’ll get used to it soon. Can you do me a favor and swallow for me?”

He was concerned that Snape was just going to lie there and ignore him—really, when had Snape ever done anything Harry wanted?—but he needed to know if he had any control over his new tongue at all. Finally, he saw Snape’s Adam’s apple dip in a deliberate swallow without any choking or coughing or apparent discomfort.

“That’s wonderful. You haven’t been able to do that for almost a year, you know. Would you like a glass of water?”

Snape couldn’t answer, of course, but Harry thought he was trying to move his left arm, probably to take the glass from Harry’s hand. And the look on his face was saying ‘yes’.

“You probably can’t move much. Sorry about that, but you were in a coma for quite a while. We’ll get your strength back as soon as we can, but for now I’ll have to hold the glass, okay?”

He carefully lifted Snape’s head and supported it with his right hand and guided the glass to his lips with the left. He thought Snape looked refreshed, or at least relieved once he’d drained the entire glass, but it might have been wishful thinking.

“That’s better, isn’t it? Um, are you hungry at all? I know you probably can’t chew that well, but you’ve demonstrated that you can swallow quite admirably, so I could get you something soft.” 

Snape seemed interested in the prospect, and Harry watched his face carefully while he named all the soft foods he could think of. “Let’s see, there’s mashed potatoes, tomato soup, porridge, Jell-O, ice cream, oatmeal, yoghurt, and…that’s all I can really think of. Let’s get you sitting up, and I’ll bring you something, okay?”

Harry moved to sit on the edge of the bed and lifted Snape to a sitting position. He wasn’t really strong enough to hold himself upright, so Harry braced Snape’s upper body against his own and quickly arranged pillows behind him. Snape was able to hold his head up for a moment, but it soon dropped onto Harry’s shoulder.

Harry made certain that nothing like pity was showing in his face and leaned Snape back against the pillows. He ignored the embarrassment evident in Snape’s face and left for the kitchen.

He came back in a few minutes later with a tray. One bowl he transferred to the bedside table, careful to place it where Snape couldn’t see what was inside, and charmed the tray to hover over Snape’s lap.

“I’ve brought tea and soup,” and plenty of napkins, he added mentally. “Would you like some tea first?”

Snape was looking steadily at the teacup like it was the answer to all his problems, so Harry took that as a yes. Once about half the tea was gone, he put the cup back on the tray and focused on the soup. 

He brought a spoonful—not _too_ full—to Snape’s parted lips and fed it to him. As Snape tried to swallow it, a bit escaped from the corner of his mouth and dribbled down to his chin. He looked mortified.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Harry said, quickly wiping it away with a napkin. “You know how clumsy I am—I’m trying, I swear.” He looked right into Snape’s eyes so his meaning could not be mistaken. “I’ll get better at it, but you’ll just have to bear with me for now, okay?”

He saw something like gratitude flash across Snape’s face, and set about feeding him the rest of the soup. Once it was gone and a few more napkins had been put to good use, he retrieved the second bowl and removed the chilling charm.

“Ice cream?” he asked. “It’s vanilla, with chocolate sauce… can’t say no to that, right?”

Snape’s eyes were full of astonishment and confusion and excitement, along with a healthy dose of suspicion and, there it was, the gratitude again. 

Really, it was amazing how much more expressive his face was now that he couldn’t talk. Or maybe Harry was just paying better attention.


	2. Chapter 2

After a few more days, Severus was able to stay awake for more than an hour or so at a time. Healing and strengthening potions that Potter said he got from Pomfrey and that Severus recognized as his own were the likely cause. He still hadn’t figured out exactly why he was here, in Harry Potter’s home, or why Potter was taking such meticulous care of him. But the boy did seem to be concerned about his recovery, and surely if he was going to hurt Severus he’d have done it by now, so he forced himself to relax and let it happen.

He was a Slytherin, after all, and it all seemed to be working to his advantage thus far.

After Potter finished feeding him—there were far fewer napkins required than the first time he’d done it—he did not immediately want to go back to sleep. He looked at Potter questioningly, willing him to understand. _What do I do now?_

“Um, I’m sure this will be no end of awkward, but I’m just going to ask anyway, okay? In my experience, cleaning charms can only go so far in making a person actually feel clean, and sometimes the only thing that really does it is a nice warm bath. I’ve been doing cleaning charms every day, but I know it’s been almost a year since you’ve had a bath. If you’d like, I could help you.”

Well, that was unexpected. What did the boy think he was playing at? There was no way he was going to open himself up to such ridicule from James Potter’s son, who’d probably just let him drown in it anyway.

He couldn’t help thinking it sounded nice, though.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not doing this so I can make fun of you. I don’t want to hurt you, Professor. Has anything I’ve done since you’ve been here given you the impression that I did? I’m not my father.”

The wretched boy was right, of course. He’d gone out of his way to preserve Severus’ dignity whenever possible. Perhaps he really wasn’t like James.

“Look, I know you want to. Anyone in their right mind would be desperate for a bath after over ten months. Just blink once for yes, okay?”

Severus lay there for a long moment, searching Potter’s face for any trace of mockery. There was none. He took a deep breath and slowly, deliberately, blinked once.

“Right. Okay, great. I just want to check a couple of things first.” Potter slipped his small hand into Severus’ and instructed, “Squeeze my hand, hard as you can.”

They had done this a few times before, and he complied.

“Good, good. That’s better than last time.”

Next, he shifted the covers off Severus’ legs and lifted each one in turn, bending it at the knee. Potter carefully looked only at his face when his nightshirt rode up around his thighs, placed his palm against the sole of his foot, and Severus pushed against him as hard as he could. 

“Great, you’re getting much stronger. Still, I’m going to have to help you a lot. I’m going to cast a Featherweight Charm on you, okay?” Severus was inordinately grateful for the fact that Potter always let him know when he was about to cast a spell on him. If the boy had just pointed his wand at him, Severus probably would have been terrified. Once the charm was cast, Potter wrapped Severus’ arm over his shoulder and pulled him out of the bed. 

This was the first time he’d been out of bed, and it felt odd to be upright again. Odd, but good. He moved his feet with the steps Potter took, even though he knew it wasn’t actually helping. When they got to the washroom, Potter pointed his wand at the bathtub, which instantly filled with water.

“Let’s get that nightshirt off, then.” Potter pulled it up to his waist, sat him down on the edge of the tub, and pulled it over his head. Before Severus really had time to be embarrassed about sitting there naked, Potter picked him up with one arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees and gently laid him in the water, making sure his head was resting comfortably on the back of the tub.

Potter looked only at his face, but he wasn’t acting embarrassed or overly careful about it. It eased Severus’ tension a bit. 

“Now we need to get your hair washed, and the rest of you. Or you could just lie and soak for a bit if you want. Any preference?”

The water felt wonderful around him, and as long as he came out of this clean he really didn’t care what order things happened in. He shrugged his shoulders a fraction of an inch.

“Right then. How about the hair first? Is it all right if I cast an Imperturbable Charm over your face? I don’t want to get soap in your eyes or drown you or anything.”

The charm was cast, and Snape lost himself in the feel of warm water flowing down his neck and nimble fingers massaging shampoo through his hair, not once but twice, and then another substance, which Potter called ‘conditioner’.

Then there was a soft flannel covered with coconut and lemon scented soap rubbing along his arms and legs and everywhere. Potter didn’t skip over anyplace, or linger in one spot longer than another. In fact, he was downright professional about it. It was still awkward, of course, but it could have been exponentially worse and it was Potter’s behavior that was doing it. When had he got so grown up?

Once he was thoroughly clean, Potter let the water out and turned to him with an enormous, fluffy beige towel. It was wrapped around him and he was lifted out and placed on the side on the tub, where Potter proceeded to dry him off, explaining, “I always find drying charms make me itch, don’t you?” He was then dressed in a clean nightshirt and presented with two unopened packages of smalls—boxers and briefs. 

Finally, Potter seemed a bit embarrassed. Severus was almost grateful for it, as he’d been starting to wonder what was wrong with the boy.

“You, er, didn’t have any on at the hospital and I didn’t want to presume. I should’ve asked sooner I guess, but… yeah.” He thrust the two packages toward Severus, one in his left hand and one in his right, for examination. There were plain white briefs or plain black boxers. He looked steadily at the package of boxers, and was soon dressed in a pair and shuffled back into bed.

He knew Potter had been taking care of him for weeks now, but this was different. He felt he should thank him for this. Only he couldn’t.

“All right there, Professor?”

He furrowed his brows at that.

“What’s wrong?” Potter asked. “Oh, right. I suppose you’re not my professor anymore. Sir?”

The brows remained furrowed.

“Well, what am I supposed to call you—Mr. Snape?”

That got a full scowl.

“Well, what else is there?” he asked, sounding exasperated. “Unless…um, S-Severus?” he proposed tentatively.

He let the nasty expression drop from his face and Potter beamed like Christmas had come early. Perhaps he could thank him, after all.

“Thank you, Severus, that really means a lot to me. And when you start talking again, please, call me Harry.”

XXXXX

The next week passed in their established routine. 

Harry read to him and brought him tea. He fed him, though they were now moving on to more complicated foods like roast beef and chunks of pear. Various potions were administered. He had one more bath. Harry told him about little Rose, and who had survived the final battle and who hadn’t, and how sometime while he was in St. Mungo’s his house at Spinner’s End had burned to the ground. The Ministry put it down to vandalism, but they had no suspects.

“You seem to be doing a lot better lately, and I was thinking I might go back to spending mornings in the shop,” Harry said one morning after breakfast.

Snape—Severus, he mentally corrected—stared at him blankly. Was it possible he’d never got around to telling him about the shop?

“Oh, I guess I haven’t mentioned, this flat is above a shop. My shop. It’s called _Growing Things_ —a florist shop, essentially. Most of my customers are muggles, but I do sell some botanical potion ingredients as well. It seems to be doing well enough, and I like it. Alfonso’s been pretty much running things the last two months, but he’s really only supposed to be part-time. So, yeah, if you think it’s all right, I’m planning to start spending mornings in the shop again.”

Harry pointed toward the random assortment of books—wizard and muggle, texts and novels—he’d placed on the nightstand. “I know you probably can’t lift them or turn the pages too well, but I can have it hover and set a charm so the page turns when you tap your finger. Would you like one?”

Harry waited while Severus read the titles. He wasn’t sure why, but he was unaccountably nervous about leaving him all alone every morning. What if something happened? 

Severus had rearranged his fingers so only two were showing. “Second one from the top?”

Harry set him up with his chosen book and fidgeted, reluctant to leave. After a few minutes, he decided he was being ridiculous.

“If you need me for anything, anything at all, even if it seems unimportant, just tap on this three times, okay?” he said, then swept his wand in a wide arc to conjure a pendant on a long cord. He draped it around Severus’ neck and pointed at the pendant. “Right here, three times. For anything. I’ll be back at lunchtime.”

XXXXX

A few days later, Severus was just settling in to read his book during Harry’s morning shift in the shop when someone knocked on his door.

In the brief moment between the knock and the opening of the door, Severus thought it was Harry coming back. He worried that something was wrong, that something had happened to him. He next considered that perhaps Harry had forgotten to tell him something before he left. There was even a brief flicker of—what, of hope?—that Harry had decided to skip work today and spend the morning with him instead.

He felt foolish and tried not to be disappointed when Granger came in.

“Good morning, Professor. Is it all right if I come in? I don’t want to interrupt your reading.”

He gave a slight nod and she sat in the chair beside the bed. Harry’s chair.

“Harry tells me you’re doing much better, and I’m so glad to hear it. I, um, hope you’re feeling all right this morning.”

He just stared back at her for a moment, but it was clear she was nervous, so he nodded again.

“Great. I just, you know, thought maybe you could do with a fresh face. I think I might go crazy if I had to spend as much time with Harry as you do, and he’s my best friend. I know you never liked him much, but you should know he’s gone to amazing lengths to help you.”

He scowled and nodded yet again. Yes, he knew. He was here to witness it every day. He had still not discerned Harry’s motivation, but he was well aware of how much of himself Harry was investing in Severus’ recovery.

“Right, anyway. I just thought you might like to hear about some of the things I’m sure Harry never talks about.”

So she told him about the current politics and what was going on in the Ministry, and how the damage to Hogwarts was almost entirely repaired, and how the new headmistress was handling things, and the incompetent Potions professor who’d replaced him. She also talked a lot about her daughter, Rose. Then she started telling him how sorry she was that Weasley would never know Rose, and how lonely she felt, and the next thing he knew she was crying.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Professor,” she sobbed, covering her face with one hand. “I didn’t mean to do this, it’s just, it’s such a waste!”

Severus honestly didn’t know what came over him, but he found himself wanting to comfort her somehow. So he did the only thing he could and reached out to cover the tiny hand resting on her knee with his own.

She looked up, completely shocked.

Did everyone honestly believe he had no heart at all? He squeezed her hand softly. He understood heartache. He understood regret. Granger might be an annoying know-it-all twit, but she’d lost her lover, the father of her child, and she deserved whatever small comfort he could give her in that moment.

XXXXX

The next week, Severus was feeding himself with relative ease and, while he probably couldn’t walk yet, moving around much better. When Harry came up from work that afternoon, he decided it was time.

“I brought you something, Severus,” he announced, and held out a small notebook and a ballpoint pen. “You seem to be doing rather well with your hands, and I figured you’d probably be able to write. Now you can tell me all the things I’m doing wrong, like you hate carrots and you take your tea with two sugars and the bed is lumpy.”

Severus took the notebook and pen from him and Harry smiled. Now they would really be able to communicate. In fact, Severus was scribbling something in it already. When he was finished, he turned it so Harry could read.

#I find carrots acceptable. I generally take no sugar in my tea. The bed is adequate.#

He added something else and turned it back toward Harry.

#Thank you, Harry.#

Harry waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t thank me, I’m happy to do it.”

#Not for the paper, you imbecilic twit.#

Harry, who had known exactly what Severus meant the first time, burst out laughing.

#What in blazes is so funny?#

“Nothing, nothing,” Harry said when he’d caught his breath. “It’s just good to have you back. I missed your sharp ton—er, your snarky comments. Sorry. Is there anything I can get you?”

#Where is my wand?#

“Oh, didn’t I say? Suppose not. It’s under your pillow. That’s where I keep mine when I sleep, and I figured you’d want to have it close. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. Will you be able to make much use of it?”

#Nonverbal spells are not my strong suit. Still, I shall manage some minor charms.#

“That’s great, I’m glad to hear it.”

Severus scribbled again, and hesitantly turned it so Harry could see.

#I prefer mine under the pillow as well.#

Harry smiled at him.

#Now, where is my food? Am I to starve to death?#


	3. Chapter 3

Severus lay in a twisted heap in the middle of the hall trying desperately not to feel like a fool. The pain emanating from his head and lower extremities distracted him somewhat, but considering how he’d ended up in this situation he figured that foolish feeling was not going away any time soon.

It had been a few days since he’d been declared fit to walk across the hall to the loo on his own (finally) and the charms that periodically emptied his bladder and bowels had been removed, and up until a few minutes ago everything had been going just fine. 

He could hardly be blamed for the fact that he’d awoken with a morning erection for the first time since before the final battle—quite a while before it, actually. Granted, it had subsided somewhat while he was having breakfast, but it was still making its presence known when Harry had left for work. So he figured there could be no harm in taking advantage of the situation and enjoying himself for a few moments.

Not that he would be admitting it any time soon, but clearly that assessment had been somewhat less than entirely correct. And it had not even been that satisfactory. It never was, really.

Looking back, he could see that he should have anticipated feeling even more lethargic and boneless than usual after wanking into the toilet. He could see that he should have been more careful navigating his way out of the loo, and perhaps if he had he would not have stumbled into the doorframe, crashed into the table in the hall, and crumpled to the floor.

He made one last futile attempt at righting himself and finally gave in to the inevitable. For the first time since Harry had placed it around his neck, he raised his hand to the pendant and carefully gave it three taps.

Following the sound of what could easily have been a herd of hippogriffs coming up the stairs, Harry appeared in the hallway, struggling for breath.

“Severus, what happened, are you all right?” Harry demanded, dropping to his knees beside Severus. “No, of course you’re not. Let’s get you back to bed, all right?”

Then, quite to Severus’ surprise, Harry did not levitate him or help him to his feet, but scooped him up in his arms like Severus was a child and carried him back to bed.

As Harry healed his ankle injury, fed him a potion for his head, and tucked him in, the foolish feeling began to fade. When, instead of admonishing him and going back downstairs, Harry brushed a lock of hair off Severus’ forehead and settled down in his chair to read aloud, it left completely and was replaced with a warm, contented-like sensation that Severus could not quite identify. Perhaps this was what it felt like to be cared about.

XXXXX

Harry walked through the corridors of St. Mungo’s with equal amounts of excitement and trepidation. He’d finally found a spell to give Snape a new tongue, but what if it wasn’t the right one? What if he messed it up? What if the Healers wouldn’t release Snape afterward or wouldn’t let him perform the spell in the first place?

Too soon, he arrived at Snape’s room. The door was already open and there seemed to be an inordinate number of people inside, most of whom were moving quickly but did not appear overly concerned.

“Yeah, what do you say we call it?” one of them casually asked the others.

Harry’s heart started beating a little faster. ‘Call it’? Call what? That’s when he noticed that Snape’s chest did not seem to be moving at all, and nor did any other part of him. Sweet Merlin, were they calling time of death?

“No, wait!” he cried, and the healers looked at him curiously, noticing him for the first time.

“What do you mean, ‘wait’? The guy’s dead,” said a young mediwizard.

Harry rushed to Snape’s bed. He had to touch him, scream at him, make him wake up. “No, he can’t be dead, he can’t be.”

“Course he can, mate. It’s not like anyone cares, anyway. World’s well shot of him, you ask me. Bloody Death Eater.”

“I care. I care! Wake up, damn it! You can’t just die. Please, Severus, please…please…”

Something grabbed Harry by the shoulder and shook him, and he woke with a start.

“Severus?” Harry asked. It certainly looked like him and, yes, the smell was right. He flung his arms around the man, sobbing.

“Oh god, Severus, they said you were dead! They just let you die. I got there and you were already dead. I was too late, you were dead!” Harry babbled through his tears.

He felt Severus take one of Harry’s hands and guide it around to his chest, holding it there. Feeling the steady heartbeat under his palm, Harry slowly got a hold of himself. Once he had control of his breathing, he pulled back enough to see Severus’ face.

“Yeah, I get it. You’re alive. You’re still alive. Sorry to wake you—I must’ve forgotten the silencing charm. And sorry for, you know, the hysterics,” Harry said, turning his head away.

Severus shook his head and pulled his notebook from the pocket of his dressing gown. With a wave of his hand, Harry lit a candle so he could see to read.

#Do not apologize.#

“Do you have nightmares? I haven’t noticed anything since you’ve been here, but you’ve been pretty exhausted with recovering and all. With everything you’ve been through, I can’t imagine that you don’t.”

#I do.#

Harry thought of his more usual dreams—the final battle, people dying, screams and blood and darkness. “Does it get better?”

#In my experience, the old nightmares simply get replaced with new ones. But it may, in time. You are a resilient young man, and you have your whole life ahead of you.#

“Thanks, I think I feel better now,” Harry said and Severus got up to leave. Before he closed the door, Harry called, “So do you, you know. So do you.”

XXXXX

Harry head the faint musical tinkle of the door chime and put aside the book he’d been reading during the lull in customers.

“Hey, Harry! I’ve got your order,” he heard as his old classmate came into view, pulling several shrunken boxes from his pockets.

“Hi, Neville, how’s it going?” he asked.

“The greenhouse is doing really well,” Neville answered, then grinned like he was about to tell a good joke. “Hermione told me Snape’s staying with you.”

“Yeah, he is,” Harry answered, wondering what about that fact was funny.

Neville’s face fell. “I thought she was joking!”

Harry shook his head.

“Why in the world is the great git staying with you?”

“If you must know, he was injured in the final battle, and the Healers at St. Mungo’s were not doing their jobs. So I brought him here so he could recover properly,” Harry replied, letting his irritation show. “And he’s not a git!”

Neville shuddered. “But, but Harry! It must be torture having him around all the time, right there in your very own home. The man’s just plain evil!”

“Severus is the most honorable man I know, and he deserves a bloody medal! And, I’ll have you know, I rather enjoy his company,” Harry yelled, absolutely furious. He knew Neville had always had an irrational terror of the Potions Master, but this was insane.

Harry saw Neville’s eyes widen in fear and wondered if his expression was really as bad as all that. Then he noticed that Neville’s gaze was directed not at him, but over his shoulder. Leaving the shrunken packages on the counter, he gave a squeak and fled.

Harry turned to see Severus standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed.

“I suppose you heard every word, right?” he asked, silently cursing Neville for his thoughtless insults.

Severus nodded.

“Sorry about him. You shouldn’t pay any attention to what he says—he’s just scared to death of you and being a prat.”

Severus looked at him curiously, and for a moment Harry thought he was about to reach out to him. Instead, he shook his head very slightly, as if trying to clear it, and held out a note.

#You have a floo call.#

XXXXX

Severus sat in bed contemplating what Harry has said before he left for work that morning.

“I won’t insist you talk to _me_ , of course, not before you’re ready. But it may be time to, you know, start… practicing.”

He knew Harry was right. He knew that if he ever expected to speak properly again he was going to have to start somewhere. More importantly, if he ever expected to do more magic than a nonverbal _Lumos_ , an _Accio_ that could only summon things within about ten feet of himself, or a weak Warming Charm he was going to have to start talking.

He would not have said it out loud even if he could, but he was afraid. What if speech never came easily to him again? What if his voice sounded totally different than it had before? He knew he had to try, but he did not relish sounding like a drunken fool, even if only to an audience of himself.

His name, just his name. He would say his own name, with no expectation that it bear any resemblance to what he remembered. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Thevenuh Thanp.”

He cringed. Bloody hell, this wasn’t worth the humiliation. He was never opening his mouth again.

XXXXX

They sat at the table in the kitchen having lunch. Harry chewed his sandwich while attempting to summon the courage to start the conversation he knew he had been putting off for too long.

“So, Severus,” Harry began, then took a slug of pumpkin juice for a few more seconds of stalling. It was no good—he just needed to say it.

“Other than speaking, you’re almost fully recovered. Have you given any thought to what you might want to do? Go back to Hogwarts, perhaps? I’m sure the headmistress would welcome you back gladly.”

Severus’ mouth quirked in half a smirk, and he shook his head.

“No, I never did get the impression you loved teaching. I know very well, though, that you loved brewing. Would you work for one of the big laboratories, doing research?”

Severus cocked his head to the side like he was considering it, but shook his head again.

“Not keen on having the higher-ups telling you what to do, eh?” Harry said, hoping to infuse some levity into the conversation. 

#Not to worry. I am, as you say, recovering apace. I shall be out of your hair as soon as I am able to secure alternative accommodations. You need not concern yourself with my future wellbeing.#

A rather forceful, “No!” escaped Harry’s lips before he could control himself. “What I mean is I don’t want you to go.” Harry winced inwardly at his words. Severus was looking at him like he’d sprouted horns. That had not come out the way he planned. 

“I mean you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” There, that was better.

“In fact, I have a proposition for you. You know how I said before that I sell some potion ingredients? Well, I keep getting people asking me if I sell ready-made potions as well.” He rolled his eyes at the look on Severus’ face. “Yeah, I know. Obviously, they’ve never seen me anywhere near a cauldron, eh? But I was thinking you could, just if you want to of course, brew a few of the popular potions to sell in the shop. I never really use the office downstairs, and it’s not a bad place to set up a lab.”

#Earn my keep, so to speak?#

“What? No! That isn’t what I meant at all.” Why did this have to go so badly at every turn? He wanted to just crawl under the table and hide.

“I just thought you might enjoy it is all,” he said, his voice small. “And, of course, you’d keep the profits from any of your potions. You don’t owe me for anything.”

#You thought I might enjoy it?# Severus wrote, scrutinizing Harry.

“Well yeah,” Harry replied, fighting the blush threatening to creep into his face. “The only time I’ve seen you look content is when you’re brewing, and when you talk about potions it’s like you forget about everything else—all the pain and the demands and the idiotic students. I could see it in your face, Severus. It makes you happy. So yes, I thought you might enjoy it.” 

After a long moment of silence, during which Harry’s desire to crawl under the table increased ten-fold, he got an answer.

#Yes, I think I might, as well.#


	4. Chapter 4

Severus was ensconced in his usual wingback chair in front of the fire in the sitting room. The table beside him was piled with potions manuals and he was busy compiling a list of what might sell best to wizards and witches shopping at a florist. So far, he had a Plant Nourishing Draught and Leafy Green Lustre, in addition to some popular selections like Pepper-Up and Bruise Healing Paste. Harry, meanwhile, was absorbed in balancing the week’s accounts for the shop while curled up in a corner of the couch.

Doubt and suspicion had been bouncing around Severus’ head ever since he’d awakened to find himself in the care of the student who had loathed him more than anything. He had wracked his brain for a reasonable explanation as to why the Boy Who Lived was not only aiding his recovery, but being _nice_ to him. He had yet to hit upon anything promising and his admittedly short supply of patience was just about exhausted. Perhaps it was time for the direct approach.

#Why are you doing this?#

Harry glanced over then shrugged, going back to his calculations. “I know I can get a self-balancing ledger, but I find it relaxing to do it by hand.”

Severus rolled his eyes. #Not that, you dunderhead.#

“What then?” Harry asked, looking up from his account book.

He hated that he was being forced to put words to it—wasn’t it enough that it was happening? 

#Helping me.#

“I told you—the staff at St. Mungo’s was entirely ignoring you. Would you rather have died there than accept a bit of help from me?”

#Of course not. But you have done more than see to my survival. You are polite, courteous. Surely your Gryffindor honor is not responsible for that. Tell me, what is it you want from me?#

“Nothing,” Harry answered, scowling, “I just want you to be happy.”

#But why? It makes no sense.#

“It isn’t supposed to make sense! Good lord, Severus, haven’t you ever had a _friend_ before?”

That stopped Severus in his tracks. Was that what was going on here? The brat thought they were friends? He considered Harry’s question.

Once, long ago, he had thought he had a friend. Simeon Maverick was in his year and was the social hub of the Slytherins. But he was not in the least arrogant—like, say, the social hub of the Gryffindors. No, he was a genuinely nice boy, who was sure to include anyone who wanted to participate in a game of Exploding Snap or a round of butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Severus knew that his year-mates only tolerated his presence because of Simeon, but that was fine with him.

That all changed in November of his third year. He’d gone up to Sunday brunch and sat with Simeon and Alexander, the only others in his year who bothered getting up so early on the weekend, just like always. The other two had exchanged a look, and Alexander had excused himself to the loo.

Simeon turned to him with an uncharacteristically serious expression that should have put him on his guard. As it was, the conversation that followed had taken him completely by surprise.

“Look, Severus. I think you’re a good person and all, and please don’t be offended, but I think it would be best if we didn’t associate anymore.”

Severus had been unable to do anything but blink at him for a moment. “Erm, all right. If that is your wish.”

“It is. Alexander and I came here together, of course, so if you don’t mind…”

“Now? Yes, of course. I’ll just—I’ll just go sit over there then, shall I?” It had taken all his willpower to force his uncooperative legs to carry him down to the far end of the table where no one ever sat. He sank onto the bench and stared at his hands on the table, trying to figure out what had gone so terribly wrong.

It could have been the thing that happened with Lucius two weeks ago. Merlin knew Severus was disgusted with himself for it. But when Lucius had passed him in the corridor a couple of days after the incident and gently caressed Severus’ cheek with the back of his hand and he’d gone running to Simeon’s room with tears in his eyes, spilling out the generalities of what had happened the previous weekend, Simeon had comforted him. Surely if he was going to break ties with Severus over it, he would have done so then.

Perhaps Lucius had threatened him. Perhaps it was not enough for him that he had robbed Severus of what little innocence he had left and… forced himself on Severus (who absolutely refused to think about it in terms of _that word_ ) and he had decided to take away the only person in school who did not look at him with disgust. But Simeon alone among the Slytherins had always seemed immune to the charms and threats of the seventh-year blond. It seemed very unlikely that he would have let Lucius sway him.

Maybe, then, it had been the events of the past week. Tuesday evening, a fellow student had found Severus in the Potions lab, in the final stages of brewing Instant Death. In order to convince the headmaster and his Head of House that he really was not planning on murdering anyone, he’d been forced to admit that he was brewing it for himself. The only thing that had gotten him was an official escort to St. Mungo’s, where he had spent the next four days prevaricating and cursing himself for getting caught. He’d only been released the previous afternoon, and this morning had been the first time he'd seen Simeon.

Or perhaps it was none of those things. Perhaps Simeon had simply run out of tolerance for the awkward, poor, snarky, ugly, potions-obsessed boy who no one else liked anyway. Perhaps he had finally realized that Severus simply was not worth it. Whatever it was, Severus could hardly blame him.

So he had closed himself off even further than before. He spent the remainder of his school days eating and studying alone. The four Gryffindor terrors had noticed that he no longer had the protection of Simeon and his crowd and hounded him mercilessly for the next four years.

Had he ever had a friend?

Severus shook his head ‘no’ without meeting Harry’s eyes and left the room as quickly as he could manage without it looking like he was running away.

XXXXX

The room was smallish, but adequate for a make-shift lab. It was certainly more than he deserved, so he was not about to complain. This morning, he was working on a mild pain draught.

Severus very nearly sighed. After so long away from a cauldron, it just felt so right—so _good_ —to once again practice his art. For brewing was not a science, as so many dim-witted plebians supposed, but an art. One could follow the directions with the precision of a metronome, but the potion would never come out the same way twice. Not that most of the dunderheads running around out there would be able to tell, but to Severus it was obvious. If one desired a perfect potion, adjustments had to be made.

Already, he had added 0.4 grams more shrivelfig than the original recipe called for, as the ambient humidity was rather low. Not that he was using the recipe, of course, but he had it well memorized. The potion’s surface, he noticed, was not quite as opalescent as it should have been so he lowered the temperature by 2.5 ºC, doubled the powdered belladonna, and threw in a pinch of goldenstaff.

There. Much better.

He sensed a presence in the room and his brewing-induced tranquility faltered. He turned toward the door with an accusing glare, but Harry, who looked as if he might have been leaning against the doorframe for some time, just smiled.

#Well? Is there something you require?# Severus asked. Harry, however, did not answer the question.

“You look good when you brew.”

If Severus had been any less adept at controlling his emotions or schooling his features, he might have sputtered. Fortunately, he was able to retain his composure, if only just.

#Of course I do. Why else do you suppose I would do it so often?# he replied with a perfectly serious look.

Harry lasted about two seconds before he burst out laughing. Some unknown part of Severus almost wanted to smile back at him, but he refrained.

When Harry recovered, he said, “Well if you’re hoping the customers will catch a glimpse and become smitten, please make sure they’ve made their purchases before you let them drag you up to bed. Lunch in half an hour, you saucy minx,” and returned to his post behind the counter.

Once he was well out of sight, Severus allowed one corner of his mouth to quirk up and returned to his mortar and pestle to grind more dragon scales. He was admittedly new to the experience, but if this was what friendship was like, perhaps he could bring himself to tolerate it.

XXXXX

Harry and Severus were settled in the sitting room reading, when a head popped into the fireplace.

“Seamus!” Harry called, trying to sound cheerful. He knew very well what was coming and this was going to be an altogether embarrassing conversation, there were to two ways about it. He thought perhaps if he could discreetly draw attention to the fact that Severus was there too before Seamus started talking… but he was too late.

“Hey, mate! We’re going out to the club tonight, wanna join? And before you say no, let me remind you that you haven’t been in like six months—way before Christmas.”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“Come on, you know you want to. When was the last time you had a shag with a nice, hot guy? Probably don’t even remember it, do you? Come out with us and let us find you some cock! There was this—”

“Seamus!” Harry shrieked, cutting his friend off before any more lewd comments escaped. “This isn’t a good time, all right?”

“Harry, it hasn’t been a good time in months! Come on, mate, you need a good lay. You know we’ll find someone for you there, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll shag you myself if I have to.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “As enticing as that is, I have other plans tonight.” He cast a quick glance toward Severus, hoping to find him still reading or at least pretending not to listen so Harry could retain a modicum of dignity, but he seemed to be rather openly listening to every word.

Seamus must have noticed his look, because the next word out of his mouth was, “Professor!”

Severus inclined his head in acknowledgement and quickly averted his gaze. 

Was he embarrassed? Harry found that slightly bewildering. After all, Severus’ secrets were not the ones on display here.

“I’ll, I’ll be off then, shall I?” Seamus forced out. “Maybe next time, mate.”

And then Seamus was gone and Harry was left wondering what in the name of the founders he was supposed to say to explain himself, to break the awkward silence that had fallen. Fortunately, as he was getting no inspiration at all, Severus spoke first. Harry couldn’t help noticing that he still would not make eye contact.

#Why did you stop going?#

It was certainly not the sort of question Harry had been expecting, and he fumbled for an answer. “I, well I… I think it wasn’t what I wanted anymore. Just a quick shag, I mean. It didn’t seem like enough anymore. I wanted more than that.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he was expecting a reply, and he couldn’t figure out if he should be relieved or disappointed when Severus simply nodded to his lap and went back to his book. He settled for indifferent and resumed his reading as well.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus sat sipping his tea and watching Harry squirm, which he seemed to be doing quite a bit of lately. He had no idea what he had done to suddenly make Harry so nervous around him, but it did at least tend to be somewhat entertaining at times.

“So, erm, what was it like to be Headmaster?” Harry asked.

Severus shuddered. Being Headmaster had been hellish, to say the least. He didn’t particularly want to discuss it, but with all Harry had done for him, was it really too much to ask?

#I divided my time between staying apprised of the Dark Lord’s plans while trying to foil as many of them as possible and protecting the three hundred students entrusted to my care while attempting to make it seem as if I was terrorizing them to the best of my ability. There was little time for the traditional duties falling to the Headmaster.#

“Right, er, sorry. Stupid question,” Harry muttered to his teacup.

Severus refrained from agreeing with him on that point.

#Why do you ask?#

“Oh,” Harry replied, finally looking up at him. “I guess I was just making conversation. Trying to get to know you better.”

#Getting to know me better.# What precisely did that mean?

“Well, yeah.”

#Why?#

“Do I have to have a reason? You’ve been living in my flat for the last four or five months, and I think we’re getting along pretty well. Forgive me if I’m in the habit of talking about things with my friends.”

And there was that word again. Friends. Perhaps it was common practice for friends to talk about past events, even if they were personal or painful. It certainly was not in Severus’ nature to be open about such things. Or any things. But the sudden thought occurred to him that he would like to know more about Harry, and how strange was that? Maybe Harry hadn’t been prying after all, or trying to bring back the frustration and helpless feeling of that time in his life. Maybe it was genuine interest.

#What made you decide to open a florist shop, of all things?#

XXXXX

“I don’t think that’s going to fit, sweetie, why don’t you try it in the triangle spot?” Harry suggested, pointing to the place the piece would fit. But Rosie just kept trying to get the little wooden triangle to fit in the square hole. Just as well.

#I don’t know why you insist on talking to the brat. It’s not as if she can understand you.#

“Well, how else is she going to learn? And she isn’t a brat, not yet at least. I’m sure she’ll be plenty annoying once she starts—”

“Mr. Potter!” Harry heard, and turned to see Alfonso looking out from the top of the stairs.

“Could you come down, sir? You’re needed in the shop,” Alfonso explained.

“I’m sort of busy right now,” Harry answered, gesturing to the infant in his lap, “Is it really necessary?”

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Potter, but I think you’d better.”

“Well I suppose I can just bring her down with me, or you could stay up here with her maybe,” Harry ventured, and Alfonso’s eyebrows shot up.

#Do not be ridiculous.#

Harry turned toward Severus to read the note, irritated. The first time his goddaughter comes to visit and already they were having a minor catastrophe. “Well, what do you suggest then?”

#I will watch her, of course.#

Well, obviously Harry was misinterpreting something here. “You’ll watch her? You just got through calling her a brat.”

Severus scowled. #I call you a brat all the time, but I’ve yet to drop you on your head. Just give her to me and go deal with your incompetent employee.#

“Are you sure? I bet I can firecall Molly and ask her to watch her for a bit.”

#Do you really think me so incapable?# Severus asked, huffing.

“I…no, of course not. I’ll just, just give her to you then, shall I?” Harry stood and carefully lowered Rose into Severus’ arms. She’d be fine. It’s not like Severus would be able to yell at her or anything. Everything would be just fine.

He was ashamed to realize he’d nearly forgotten about Rose when he finally came back upstairs after dealing with the broken window (which had apparently been a complete accident on the part of someone strolling down the sidewalk) and the angry customer who’d gotten cut with the glass (whom he’d given a lifetime ten percent discount on all merchandise, but whom he suspected would never come back).

As he stood on the top step chastising himself, he watched the scene before him. Rose was still on Severus’ lap, and Severus was humming to her and making her stuffed hippocampus dance across his knee while she leaned back against his chest and cooed. 

The thing that struck him the most, though, was the look on Severus’ face. It was a look he had never seen there before, that was for sure. Severus had a ghost of a smile on his lips, and while he was definitely focused on Rose, something in his eyes seemed far away. He looked wistful, almost. He looked how Harry had felt when he realized that being gay meant he wasn’t ever going to settle down and start a family, that he would never have children of his own.

His look was soft and warm, and Harry felt an inexplicable tightness in his chest and an overwhelming urge to go give the man a hug. And maybe brush his knuckles over those cheekbones.

Shaking his head to rid it of these unaccountable thoughts, he carefully cleared his throat and walked into the room smiling.

XXXXX

It seemed as though the curse would never end.

Or it would have seemed that way, at least, if the bone-crushing pain of Cruciatus had not rendered Severus incapable of the thought. As it was, he writhed on the floor under the Dark Lord’s wand trying unsuccessfully not to scream.

Just before he was about to black out or go mad or start bleeding from his eyes, the pain stopped. He was scooped up by a person he vaguely recognized as Harry, at which point he found himself standing in a grassy clearing surrounded by dense trees. He was less concerned with the sudden change of scenery than with the young man smiling at him from ten feet away.

“Thank you for saving me,” he said to Harry.

“Of course,” Harry answered, “and now you can do something for me in return.”

Some part of Severus was telling him something was wrong, that it was not like the Harry he knew to say such things, but the rest of him simply answered, “Anything.”

“Good, then. Strip off.”

That part of Severus sent up more warning sparks, but the part that seemed to be in control of his actions was whispering, “Yes,” and pulling his shirt over his head and wondering where this was going. Was Harry going to take off his clothing as well? Did Harry want to touch him, or perhaps just to look? Was Harry planning to kiss him?

He’d discarded his last piece of clothing and stood there completely naked, and that was when he noticed them—people, coming out of the woods from all directions into the clearing. People he knew, that he’d gone to school with or taught, colleagues from Hogwarts and Death Eaters.

“What…” he began, but Harry cut him off.

“Don’t look so shocked. Did you think I _wanted_ to see you naked?” Harry chuckled. “It’s downright disgusting,” he concluded, and his chuckles turned into gasping, mocking laughter, and everyone else—everyone he’d ever known, it seemed—was laughing, too. Laughing at him.

“Harry?” he asked tentatively, but Harry was too busy laughing to answer. He looked on the ground for his clothes, but they were nowhere to be seen. He considered curling up in the grass, or at least trying to cover himself, but his body wouldn’t respond. There was nowhere to run, either—the people formed a thick wall around him with their bodies and their laughter. He couldn’t stop the hot tears running down his cheeks, so he stood there wondering what he had done to Harry to make him behave this way and crying.

Then, “Hush,” he heard, “Hush, Severus, hush. It’s all right. You’re all right,” and someone was rocking him. He buried his face in a shoulder—Harry’s shoulder—took a shuddering breath and snuggled deeper into the arms around him.

“That’s it, are you awake now? I’ve got you.”

For a brief, panicked moment, he worried that Harry was going to start laughing at him again and he stiffened. But there were fingers running through his hair and lips whispering against his temple and this was the real Harry, not dream Harry, and everything was fine. He was safe here.

XXXXX

Harry woke slowly, with the feeling that all was right with the world. He breathed in deeply and discovered a weight on his chest and something tickling his nose. Upon forcing his eyes open, it became apparent that he and Severus were wrapped around each other and Severus’ hair was in his face. His pyjama top was damp under Severus’ cheek where it had absorbed his tears.

It was almost as if they had been hugging and simply lain down and fallen asleep without letting go. Which, now that he thought back, was probably exactly what happened. 

He supposed he should have felt awkward, but all he could think was that he wanted to wake up like this every morning, with Severus’ skin against his skin and Severus’ scent wrapped around him like a blanket, the feel of his heartbeat and the sound of his breathing soothing him.

And wasn’t that bizarre.

He carefully slipped his hand into his pocket to touch his wand and cast a light sleeping charm over his companion so he could slip out without waking him. At the door, he looked back and saw Severus’ hand moving around the bed like he was looking for something. Sighing, he cancelled the charm so Severus could wake up naturally and went to get ready for work.

XXXXX

It was no use. He sounded like a drunken three-year-old with a lisp. The fine control he had perfected in his forty years just wasn’t there yet with his new appendage. He attempted to console himself with the fact that his voice still sounded the same—after all, it was his tongue that was the problem, not his vocal cords—but it was little use.

Steeling himself for one last try before giving up for the day, he raised his wand and aimed at the book on his nightstand.

“ _Windawthum Weviotha_.” And again, nothing.

Taking a different tack, he thought _Wingardium Leviosa_ as hard as he could, and the book wobbled a bit but stayed right where it was. 

Silently, he cursed himself. Why was it that the only nonverbal spells he had ever troubled to master were only good for dueling? He’d be all set next time he needed to incapacitate someone, but as far as casting a simple Drying Charm after his shower instead of toweling off went, he was hopeless.

There was a knock on his door. Harry, of course, but he wouldn’t enter without permission so Severus stood to open the door. He would have very much liked to snap, “What!” at the infuriating brat but he couldn’t, and that just irked his further. 

“Supper’s ready, Severus,” Harry said, then frowned at the look on his face. “Been practicing?”

#What do you think? This is hopeless!#

“It’s not, and you know it isn’t. I know it’s frustrating for you, but it’s the only way it’s going to happen. I have absolutely no doubt that one day this is going to pay off and you’ll be back to insulting people in nice clear, scathing tones instead of just in your head like nothing was ever wrong. But even if that never happens, it’s not the end of the world. I’m here for you no matter what—you know that, right? Now stop sulking and come eat. I’ve done lasagna, you like lasagna.”

And with that, Harry took his hand and pulled him out of the room and Severus followed, somehow—inexplicably—unable to resist.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry sat at the breakfast table sneaking intermittent glances at Severus (why, he could not say) and occasionally taking a bite of his porridge when a small snowy owl swooped in through the open window and alighted on his napkin.

The owl gave him an affectionate nip as he untied the letter. “Hello to you, too, Demeter. Did Andromeda ask you to wait for a reply?”

In answer, Demeter hopped to the edge of the table and took off through the window.

“Suppose not.”

His breakfast forgotten, Harry unrolled his letter.

It was only when Severus cleared his throat and tapped Harry’s hand to get his attention that he realized he’d finished reading several minutes ago. When he looked up, he was presented with Severus’ concerned face and a note.

#Are she and her grandson well?#

“Oh, sorry,” Harry responded, shaking his head and feeling stupid. “Yeah, they’re fine. I think so anyway. She said she’s been having some trouble with her magic fluctuating and went to St. Mungo’s to get it checked out. She wanted to tell me before I heard she was there and freaked out or something. She says it’s no big deal.”

#I hope that’s true. And Ted?#

“He’s fine.”

#I must say, I am surprised he’s not been to visit.#

Harry felt a stab of guilt. Severus was right; he’d been neglecting his godson. How could he possibly explain himself?

“I know. It’s just—it’s hard.”

#In what way? You seemed to handle Rose’s visit adequately.#

Harry hesitated. He’d never spoken to anyone about this before and he wasn’t sure he wanted to start. But there was just something about Severus that made him easy to talk to. Maybe it was because he couldn’t respond in that scathing, cutting voice anymore. Maybe that wasn’t it at all.

“I’m his godfather, you know. When I first heard that Remus and Tonks had both died, after the initial grief, I was so happy. It’s horrible of me, I know, but I thought that since I was his godfather and his parents had died, it meant that I would raise him. That he would be… he would be _mine_. I thought that was my chance. I was so stupid.”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment against the remembered grief of when everyone, including Andromeda, had assumed custody would go to her.

#Why is that so stupid?#

Harry gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Don’t make fun of me, Severus. Everyone else obviously knew I would make a terrible father. Too irresponsible, too reckless, just like you always said. Who would ever trust me with a child? That kind of life wasn’t meant for me.”

#Do not say such things!#

Harry was surprised at the anger he saw in Severus’ face. What was that about?

#I do not believe your friends and family thought that of you, but if they did they are imbeciles.#

“Thanks for that, I guess. But they’re right—it’s not like I’ve got a sterling example to follow, is it? I do know that tossing him in a cupboard with no food and only letting him out to cook and clean and be disciplined is not the way to go, but other than that I haven’t the first clue about raising a child.” It had hurt when no one even seemed to consider that Teddy should be with his godfather, but once he’d thought about it, it had made sense.

#Preposterous! How can you think you are unfit? I’m sure no one knows what to do the first time around.#

He couldn’t believe Severus was defending him, and so fiercely, too. It warmed him to know that someone—this man, especially—thought so much of him.

#And what’s this about a cupboard? Of course you would not do any such thing. Why even think of it?#

Oh, bollocks. He just had to go and open his big mouth, didn’t he? “Look, it’s nothing. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Severus’ brow furrowed. #You speak from experience?#

“I do.”

Severus searched his face for a long moment, and apparently satisfied with what he’d found, said, #Well, none of that is any excuse not to see him at all. I realize it must be painful for you to be reminded of what you almost had, but you must realize he still needs you.#

Harry sighed. Why did the man always have to be right? “Yes, I suppose I have been selfish. I’ve already missed out a whole year of his life. I’ll write her and offer to baby-sit,” he said and accioed parchment and quill.

“And Severus—thank you.”

XXXXX

“Hey, I need to go to Diagon Alley later—you wanna come with? Buy your ingredients in person, maybe?” Harry asked as he started the dishes washing themselves.

#I am not certain that’s a good idea.# He was sure to be hexed six ways from Sunday if he set foot outside.

“Look, I told you already that you’ve been cleared of all charges. No one blames you.” Harry grimaced and added, “Well, not officially, at least.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. 

“It certainly can’t hurt to be seen with me in public, anyway, being the savior and all that rot,” Harry insisted.

#No? What about all the Death Eaters and sympathizers who think of me as a traitorous wretch in need of a lesson or two?#

This was an insane idea. He may be able to defend himself with nonverbal spells fairly easily, but his best defense had always been his words. If someone wanted to fight him, he wouldn’t be able to talk them down, or humiliate them enough to rethink their actions.

“Well, it’s not likely that lot’s going to be wandering around Diagon Alley in broad daylight attacking people in full view of everyone. It’s not like you to be scared. Don’t worry, Severus, I’ll protect you,” Harry responded, with a hint of challenge in his voice that did not go unnoticed. Who did the whelp think he was?

#I can assure you, I am not afriad! When do we leave?#

And even though it was said almost mockingly, Severus knew that Harry meant it. If necessary, he _would_ protect him, and fiercely.

Not that he thought he’d need it, but it did make him feel better.

XXXXX

Harry set his tumbler of whiskey on the coffee table and asked a question he’d been thinking about for a while now. 

“Do you know who cursed you?”

#If had to have been Bellatrix. She always was a rather good spellcrafter,# Severus answered, his handwriting still neat as ever, despite a couple of drinks.

“What on earth did you say to her to make her curse your tongue out of eck-existence with a here-herto-previously unknown spell?”

#Heretofore.#

Severus stood to pour himself another drink, holding his notebook with his pinky through the spiral binding. He paused at the makeshift bar to write a note, and walked closer to show Harry, smirking.

#It’s possible I intimated that her beloved Lord was not of pure blood. It is also possible I suggested to her that, as I believe him to have been incapable of the emotion, he could not possible have returned her feelings.#

Harry started laughing so hard he almost dropped his glass in an effort to wrap his arms around his middle. He knew a lot of it was the alcohol, but it was just so _funny_.

“You-you told her that, that he didn’t—wasn’t in, in _love_ with her?” he squeaked out between bursts of laughter. He must have made quite the spectacle, because the next thing he knew he was listening to the most amazing sound.

Severus was laughing.

Full, hearty laughter, and his eyes sparkled with mirth. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Before he could think about what he was doing, he had stood and moved close enough to have very much invaded Severus’ personal space.

Severus had stopped laughing and lifted an eyebrow in question, but he still had a huge grin on his face. Harry couldn’t help but touch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, trailing his knuckles down Severus’ cheek.

And then Harry was leaning closer, and then he was kissing him, and it was so so wonderful. He opened his mouth a bit, trying to get those soft lips to move against his.

After what felt like an eternity, he felt a small, tentative response that shot a thrill clear through his body, but then he had to breathe and it was over.

He smiled up at Severus and saw a man seemingly flummoxed. He had his fingers raised to his slightly open mouth, flushed cheeks, and a question in his eyes like he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, Harry said, “Relax, Severus, you act like it’s your first kiss.”

Immediately, Severus’ face went impossibly redder and he covered his mouth with his hand and looked away, eyes shut tight.

What? No. No, that wasn’t even remotely possible. But maybe…?

“Severus. You have been kissed before. Haven’t you?” Harry asked, disbelieving.

Severus snatched his notepad from the floor where it had fallen and wrote, #Of course I have, you dolt!#

Harry just raised his eyebrows, not wanting to insult him further, but still not sure what to believe.

Severus’ face filled with pain and indecision. Then, though obviously reluctant, he added, #Once,# and stood there as if he was bracing himself, waiting for Harry to ridicule him.

Once. _Once_? Harry could not fathom how a person could go almost forty years and only have one kiss. Though, he supposed, if the other party had mocked him or laughed—which was obviously what Severus was expecting him to do—he would have gone out of his way never to repeat the experience.

Harry bit his lip. “Well, that makes two. Care to go for three?”

#No! Do not mock me, not now. Not you,# Severus pleaded, his face contorting with rage and insecurity.

“I’m such an idiot. I didn’t mean it like that, honest,” Harry replied, damning himself for being so flippant. “I really do want to kiss you again, and that’s just what came out.”

#Why?#

“You know how I am—I just open my mouth and stupidity comes out. I’m sure the whiskey isn’t helping.”

#True enough, but I was not referring to that.#

“Ah. Why do I want to kiss you again? I suppose I couldn’t really say, except that I do want to. I enjoyed it the first time. Didn’t you?”

Severus seemed to struggle with himself, as if admitting he’d liked it would be showing some sort of weakness, before nodding quickly.

“I’m glad. Would you-would you like to try it again?” he asked, raising a hand and slipping it through the hair at the nape of Severus’ neck, relishing the feel of warm skin against his fingers.

Severus shook his head, then nodded, then furrowed his brow.

#I don’t know.#

Harry was disappointed, but tried not to show it. Since when had he started wanting to kiss him so badly, anyway? The pure happiness he had seen on Severus’ face earlier flashed in his mind and he thought, ‘I want to put that look on his face every day.’

“That’s okay, I won’t push you.”

In spite of his words, Harry looped his other arm around Severus’ waist and pulled their bodies together in a tight embrace. He buried his face in Severus’ shoulder, taking in his scent, and tried to memorize the feel of his hard, lean body pressed against him in case he was never able to get him this close again.

Releasing his hold, Harry added, “But let me know if you change your mind,” and watched Severus hurriedly stumble out of the room.

XXXXX

Severus sat on the bed in his room with his hand again raised to his thin lips, wondering what in the name of the founders was going on.

What could have possessed Harry to behave so? He thought back over the last few weeks, with the furtive looks and little smiles directed his way, and wondered if he should have seen this coming, but he still found it incomprehensible. 

And gods! The way it felt…he had no words to describe the sensation. Lucius had kissed him once, that first time, but it hadn’t been anything like this. Lucius’ kiss had been hard and aggressive and it had frightened him. It did not seem right that the two acts could be called by the same word.

And afterward, the feel of Harry’s compact body flush against him, Harry’s heat burning his skin, the wild hair tickling his chin, it was all so overwhelming. And, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he might have felt evidence of Harry’s arousal.

But that couldn’t be right, could it? Harry was a young, vivacious man—how could he possibly be attracted to _him_? And besides, who ever heard of getting hard over a little kiss?

And that was when he noticed that he wasn’t exactly soft, either.

With a groan, he fell back on the bed confused, mortified, and more than a little frustrated.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, Harry resolved to play it cool. He was absolutely terrified that, having had the night to mull things over, Severus would do… well, _something_. Something awful.

What if he no longer felt comfortable around Harry and wanted to move out? They might never see each other again.

What if he was disgusted, now that the shock had worn off? Harry didn’t even know if Severus liked men. Homosexuals made up, what, less than ten percent of the general population? The chances were not good.

At breakfast, Harry tried to smile. He didn’t know how successful he was, but then Severus probably didn’t either, as he spent most of the meal avoiding looking in Harry’s direction.

It was a relief when it was finally time to go down to the shop. He spent the morning trying so hard not to think about what he’d done that he ended up being horribly distracted anyway and feared he had not been much use to his customers.

Maybe he should have worked harder at learning Occlumency, after all. Wasn’t it meant to help with compartmentalizing feelings, and the like? But, like most things, that just led him back to thoughts of Severus.

XXXXX

Lunch was a repeat of breakfast, but with different food. Harry was quiet, and Severus kept his eyes on his plate, waiting for… something. Something awful.

He was fearful that Harry would mock him for his confession last night. He hadn’t at the time, really, but that didn’t mean he never would. He had been drinking, so maybe he just hadn’t thought of it yesterday. Now that he was sober, who knew what he might be thinking.

What if Harry was regretting his actions? If he had even half a brain, how could he not be? 

To Harry’s credit, it certainly seemed a likely possibility. He’d avoided Severus all day, barely spoken a word to him. Severus hadn’t realized just how often Harry would casually touch him until all of a sudden he didn’t anymore.

And he hadn’t predicted how much it would hurt. Just when he was finally beginning to think of Harry as a friend, to understand what exactly a friend was, everything went to hell.

Harry pushed his plate away. “I think I’ll go back down to the shop for the afternoon.”

This is it, Severus thought, the beginning of the end. He wants nothing more than to get away from me.

“We were really busy this morning, and if that keeps up Alfonso will need – ”

He was interrupted by an owl pecking at the window.

“Oh! Is that…?” Harry got up to let the bird in. “Hey, there Demeter. What have you got for me?” 

He unrolled the scroll and dropped back into his chair. His eyes widened as he read.

“She-she’s taking me up on my offer. Andromeda. She wants me to baby-sit. Today, right now. She’s got to go back to St. Mungo’s for some tests and wants to know if she can Floo over with Teddy.” When he looked up, his eyes were wild.

Severus wondered what he could possibly be so afraid of.

#Well? Are you going to respond?#

“I… yes. I guess I’ll just go Floo call her. Yeah.”

XXXXX

Turned out having Teddy around was exactly what they needed to start acting normal again. Or close to it, anyway.

At just over a year old, he was quite a handful and kept both of them busy rushing around after his chubby, toddling form. Harry had a hard time keeping his hands off him, in fact. It seemed he was falling down or bumping into something every other step, and Harry only kept from flying off the handle because of Severus’ none-too-gentle reminders that Teddy wasn’t actually hurt.

#Merlin, must you carry on so?# he’d scribble, then scowl when Teddy’s back was turned.

Sometime mid-afternoon, Teddy plopped down on his diaper-clad bottom and started wailing. Fretful, Harry rushed over and performed a spell to scan for injuries. He found nothing. He cautiously leaned close and sniffed. Again, nothing.

“Do you suppose we should feed him?” 

Harry turned to Severus, brow furrowed and biting his lip, only to find him pressing his lips tight together. When his confusion only deepened, Severus relaxed enough to allow his amused smile to show.

#Yes, probably. After all, I hear child neglect is punishable by time in Azkaban.#

“Git,” Harry muttered.

And that had led to some waffling over what foods were proper for babies and which might be most easily pureed and whether they ought to shrink the spoon down a bit, before they finally remembered the satchel Andromeda had dropped off with Teddy.

Harry broke the Sealing Charm on a container of mushed up carrots, snatched up a small, soft spoon, and set to work.

It turned out to be somewhat harder than he expected. 

“You know, Teddy, if people don’t eat, they starve to death. Won’t you have just a bit?”

After half an hour of cajoling, pleading, and making the spoon fly like a broomstick, the container was empty. There was a fair amount on Teddy and the surrounding area, but Harry was certain it couldn’t be all of it.

He turned to Severus, who had been sitting at a safe distance watching, with triumph. “He ate some!” His grin faltered a bit. “I think.”

Severus made a soft, fondly exasperated expression and leaned across the table. He reached a hand up to Harry’s face and ran his finger along his jaw.

Heart pounding, Harry quickly moved to hold Severus’ hand in place with his own. Severus’ eyes widened and his mouth went slack in shock.

Was it possible that he wasn’t disgusted by Harry’s actions, after all? Could he possibly…? “Severus?”

His cheeks went a bit pink and he gently extricated his hand from Harry’s. Holding up his index finger, he showed Harry the smear of orange goo on the tip.

#You had a bit of carrot.#

“Oh!” Harry cringed. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t… I mis-misunderstood.” He dropped his forehead into his hand and wondered if he could make himself disappear simply by wishing it hard enough.

He heard Severus scratching with his biro and glanced over from under his fingers, trying to make out the words as they were written.

#No, please do not apologi—#

“Ba ba ba ba ba!” Teddy interrupted, banging his fist on the table.

Harry took a deep breath, trying to get a hold of himself. “Yes, that’s right. I think it’s time for a bath!” he announced brightly, and moved to pick up the baby.

Severus stood as well. He nodded toward the loo and raised an eyebrow.

Trying to seem nonchalant, Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I could probably use the help.” 

Inside, he was dancing.

XXXXX

Severus wondered if perhaps volunteering for bath duty had not been the best idea.

He and Harry were both down to shirtsleeves, and they were soaking wet.

He growled and shook his finger at Teddy in silent admonishment.

Harry laughed.

At least Ted seemed to be enjoying his bath. He splashed his tiny hands in the water and threw the rubber duck Harry had conjured against the tiles. He held his hand up and watched the water drip off it, and Severus drank in the look of wonder on his face.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Harry asked quietly.

Chagrined at being caught out, he simply shrugged.

The bath was over a short time later, and Harry fished Ted out of the tub. He cradled the baby to his chest and gently rubbed him dry with a soft towel, cooing at him what a good boy he’d been. By the time he’d finished and moved to lay him down on the bathroom rug, Ted was asleep.

“Yeah, that was exhausting, wasn’t it?” Harry asked the sleeping form.

With a sad smile, he turned to Severus. “I had no…” He trailed off and his eyes dropped down to Severus’ chest.

Glancing down to find out what had his attention, Severus saw that his shirt had come half unbuttoned while wrestling with the little bath-demon. Embarrassed, he moved quickly to rectify the situation.

Harry’s hand shot out and caught his wrist. “Don’t. You don’t have to.” He stroked his thumb over the back of Severus’ hand.

Severus was sure he could feel his face turning red. He looked away.

Harry placed his fingers on Severus’ chin and guided his head back around.

Severus sighed and felt his eyes slip closed of their own accord. When he noticed himself leaning into the touch, he jerked away.

Harry gave him a pleading look. “Is it me? Or are you just nervous or embarrassed or something?”

Wanting, above all else, to take away the pain that shown in Harry’s face, Severus knelt up and searched around for his notebook and pen. Failing to locate it, he clenched his fists and huffed in frustration.

“It’s okay,” Harry said. “Is it me?”

Severus shook his head, then stood to go to his room and change.


	8. Chapter 8

Severus hated his nightly ‘exercise’. It was a necessary and self-imposed regimen, but he loathed it nonetheless. 

Once more he lay in bed, eyes closed, and spoke. He went through the alphabet twice, then counted from zero to one hundred. He’d learned to keep the wincing and worrying down to a minimum, as it only slowed things down. Instead, he tried to make an impartial inventory of his mistakes.

The Ls and Rs were giving him hell. He was still having trouble with S (thus also C) and Z. While the letter G was getting better, making the G sound as in ‘Galleon’ was not something he had yet mastered. K, along with Q and X, was still not as crisp as he felt it ought to be. There was something about the E that just didn’t sound quite right.

Oh, bugger impartiality! He balled his fists in the sheets and indulged in a thorough sulk, mentally whinging about how he’d never be able to properly cast spells again or speak his mind or sing. Well all right, _learn_ to sing. Either way, it wasn’t going to happen.

Not everyone would be as patient as Harry and carry on a conversation that was half written. Harry himself could not be expected to keep it up for much longer.

Technically speaking, it was everything he’d ever wanted. He was literally cut off from other people, unable to engage in idle chitchat or be sociable. He could find a little house in the country, where he could be alone with himself and his potions.

Unfortunately, this didn’t seem to be what he wanted anymore. He was uncertain what, precisely, he did want, but he knew that unless Harry were to come to that little house in the country with him he’d be more miserable than he’d ever been.

And that was saying something.

XXXXX

Harry sat behind Growing Things’ front counter, head propped on his elbows. Severus was back in the office-cum-lab brewing, and Harry was having a hell of a time staying at his post.

They’d stopped avoiding each other in the week since Teddy’s visit, thank Merlin. They were almost back to normal, whatever that was. They were very careful about how close they got, and sometimes Harry thought he caught Severus giving him odd looks. But they were spending most of their time together, just like before.

Still, though, he felt like he couldn’t get enough of Severus. Any time Harry was out of his presence, all he wanted was to be with him. And once he was, he just wanted to be closer.

It was becoming unbearable.

He wanted to give Severus space, let him decide what it was he wanted without any pressure, but he wasn’t sure he could hold out much longer. His fingers itched to reach out for him, to feel his skin and his hair and, yes, his cock. His lips ached with the memory of their kiss, which was replayed rather often in his dreams. He tried and failed to recapture the sensation of Severus’ body pressed against his. The memory was a mite fuzzy - why had he had to go and drink so much?

He glanced at the clock, wondering if it was really so important that he stay until noon.

XXXXX

Severus heard voices from the sitting room. One was slightly muffled, so he assumed Harry had a Floo-call. He busied himself making tea as quietly as possible. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to disturb Harry. It was really only a coincidence that he was able to catch snatches of the conversation.

“ – talked to Hermione, she said you’re spending _all_ your time with him! You should come – ”

“ – told you I don’t want to! Just go without me, Seamus.”

“But Harry!”

“ – voice down, you wanker! Severus will hear – ”

“ – old git, you’re wasting your time. He’s never going to – ”

“ – what you’re talking about, and I don’t ever want to hear you – ”

“ – being an idiot – ”

“ – said bugger _off_!”

Severus heard a _whoosh_ as the fire was extinguished, then Harry came barreling into the kitchen. His head was down, and he ran right into Severus.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” he cried, springing back and holding his hands up. As if the mere thought of touching him was horrifying.

Severus turned back to the kettle.

“You didn’t-didn’t hear any of that, did you?”

Severus brought cups over to the table, pushing Harry’s toward him. He held up a hand with his thumb and index finger a few inches apart, trying to indicate ‘a bit’.

Harry groaned. “You shouldn’t listen to anything he says. Seamus just…” Harry trailed off and started digging through the cabinet. He emerged with a bottle of whiskey and poured a healthy splash into his cup. He tilted the bottle toward Severus, who nodded warily.

Severus topped their cups with tea, though there wasn’t much room left for it. Harry was tense, and he wondered exactly what had upset him so. Severus took a sip, then raised his eyebrow, trying to get Harry to go on.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Bloody prat, thinks he knows everything.” Harry gulped his entire cupful and poured himself more whiskey. He dragged a hand through his hair. “He’s just… he’s an idiot, and I told him it’s not like that.”

Severus had very little idea what he was talking about. He sipped his whiskey-laced tea, hoping to mask his confusion.

“I told him you were just…” Harry broke off suddenly and dropped his head into his hands. “Gods, this is hopeless!”

Concerned at this outburst, Severus was out of his chair and reaching toward Harry in an instant. ‘Please tell me what is the matter,’ he started to say, but only got as far as, “Pweathe tehw me…” before he clapped his hand over his mouth. He stumbled backward, eyes closed, frantically wondering when he’d gone and lost his mind.

He bumped against something and tried to step away from it, but it moved with him. Arms came around him and he finally opened his eyes. Harry was looking back at him with a soft expression. ‘Sorry,’ Severus mouthed, trying not to cringe.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Except maybe walking around with your eyes closed – can’t let you hurt yourself, can I?” Harry said with a small smile.

At a loss as to what else to do, Severus just shook his head. He could feel Harry’s hands against his back, clutching at his robes. Certain that he was blushing, he leaned down and hid his face against Harry’s shoulder.

“Severus, you’re killing me here.”

He hadn’t thought his mortification could increase, but he was wrong. He pulled out of Harry’s embrace and turned away. Harry had been very careful not to touch him since they had kissed. Just because Harry’d caught him when he stumbled did not mean… well, it didn’t mean anything. 

“No, wait! I… wait.”

Severus felt Harry’s hand close over his arm and turned around to face him.

“Please, I didn’t mean… I just…”

He wondered if Harry was ever planning on finishing a sentence. He felt completely at sea, and some clarification would be very welcome. He raised a hand to Harry’s shoulder, willing him to get a hold of himself and make some sense.

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times without making a sound. Finally, he huffed. “This is mad.” He filled Severus’ teacup to the brim and held it out. “Drink this.”

Severus’ eyebrows went up.

“Because I’m going to kiss you.”

Severus gaped. Surely he was misunderstanding something here. Harry couldn’t possibly mean… He snatched the cup and drank the whiskey down is several quick gulps.

“Dutch courage?” Harry asked, amused.

Severus scowled. Determined not to seem a coward, he pushed away the fear that he was about to make a fool of himself and pressed his lips against Harry’s. He wasn’t sure what else to do, just he just kept pressure there for a moment and pulled away.

Harry’s eyes were wide. Severus had a brief moment to wonder if he’d just made a huge mistake before Harry hissed, “Merlin, yes,” and pulled their bodies flush together.

When Harry kissed him, it was with an open mouth and roaming lips and nibbling teeth. It was with _tongue_. Severus moaned.

Harry tilted his head and started kissing his way down Severus’ neck. It wasn’t until the kisses continued onto his chest that Severus realized Harry had been undoing buttons all the while. Surely this couldn’t be happening – was he dreaming?

Harry tugged at his robes. “Let’s go in here,” he said, pulling Severus by the cuff of his robes through the sitting room and down the hall.

He stopped halfway through the door to his bedroom. “Is this what you want, Severus?”

He was rather uncertain what, precisely, ‘this’ was, but he couldn’t imagine saying no. He nodded.

“Good.”

There was a flurry of hands and robes and bodies – Severus was certain Harry’s wand flicked at some point, possibly in regards to shoelaces, as he was otherwise at a loss to explain how his feet became bare so quickly – and then they were naked.

As soon as he realized it, Severus thought to cover himself. But the way Harry was eyeing his body so openly and with so much longing made him reconsider. He had no idea what Harry saw to make him look at him so, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Harry trailed a hand down Severus’ chest to rest at his hip, and Severus shivered. “You’ve… you’ve done this before. Right?” Harry asked, giving Severus a squeeze.

Severus wished desperately that he could speak properly, as he had no idea where his notebook had gone. Slowly, he inclined his head in a nod.

Harry nodded back at him and moved his hand around to Severus’ arse, drawing their bodies together.

Severus gasped at the contact. The heat of Harry’s erection poking at his hip was impossible to ignore, and warred with the satisfying pressure of Harry’s belly against his prick for precedence in his mind.

Both fell away when Harry urged him down to the bed and slid on top of him. Every place their skin touched felt like it was on fire.

He had just convinced himself that it was all right to wrap his arms around Harry when Harry sat back. He wrapped one hand around Severus’ aching cock, and Severus was vaguely aware of a Summoning Spell being cast. He couldn’t imagine what Harry might need at a time like this, but as long as it didn’t require his other hand to leave Severus’ cock, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

That changed very quickly when he felt a cold, slick finger nudging at his arsehole. He scrambled back, folding his legs under him. “Wha – ?” he gasped.

Harry looked stricken. “Not okay?” he asked.

Severus was confused. There was obviously something going on here that he was missing, and he hated it. He futilely looked about the room for his pen and notebook.

He felt a tingle of magic and turned his frantic eyes toward Harry, who was holding out his notebook. He nodded in thanks.

#What are you doing?# he scribbled.

Harry grimaced. “I’m sorry. I thought it was what you wanted! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

#What was that substance? That you summoned?#

Harry frowned. “The lube. It was in my bedside table,” he answered, waving his hand at the piece of furniture in question.

#As in a lubricant?#

Harry’s frown increased. “Well, yeah. Didn’t you say you… you know, that you…? Didn’t the last bloke use lube? Or you did – _someone_ had to if it wasn’t going to hurt like hell!” He raked a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated with Severus’ ignorance.

#I don’t believe my comfort was his chief concern.#

“What do you mean? He didn’t… No. Merlin, he did, didn’t he?” 

Sensing what was coming, Severus pursed his lips and tried to calm himself.

“Were you raped, Severus?”

Severus winced. How he hated that word! He forced himself to answer. #I suppose.#

“Oh, my god. When was this? How long ago, how old were you?”

Cursing Harry’s inquisitive nature, Severus wrote, #I was 13 the first time.#

“The _first_ time? Thirteen!” Harry screeched. “Sweet Merlin, how long did it go on?”

Would the boy never tire of asking questions? He did his best to give honest answers without actually thinking about any of it. #It happened 7 times throughout my school years.#

“What… who…?” Harry's expression hardened. “That bloody wanker! I’m gonna kill Malfoy.”

Severus gaped. #How did you know?#

“You said his name during a nightmare,” Harry answered sheepishly. “What made him stop?”

He sighed. He recalled the incident vividly – the uneven stone floor digging into his knees, the frigid air against his bare skin, the too-familiar sensation of Lucius’ unbound hair tickling his back. And the laughter, always the laughter. He shuddered and forced his mind back to the present.

It seemed he was to have no more secrets. He tried to write quickly. #The last time was the night I was Marked. He did it right there in front of everyone. The Dark Lord was particularly pleased with him. I believe that finally satisfied him.#

“And you never… with anyone else?”

He hadn’t. Why would he want to, after Lucius showed him what it was like? No, he hadn’t wanted any part of sex. Severus shook his head in answer, but hastily penned, #No more questions.#

Harry nodded. “Sure. Okay. I just… Merlin, Severus, I’m so sorry!” Biting his lip, Harry started to reach toward Severus, but stopped short. “Oh! Here,” he said. Summoning Severus’ robe from the floor and offering it to him.

So that was it, then. Trying not to let his disappointment show, Severus wrapped his robe around himself and stood to leave.

“Wait! What… Where are you going?”

Back to his own room, of course. It was clear he was no longer wanted here. He waved his hand toward the hallway, trying to indicate as much.

“You’re not leaving, are you? I know after that you probably don’t feel like doing anything, but… you don’t have to leave.”

If they weren’t going to do anything, why did Harry want him to stay? He wanted to get back in the bed, just to be near Harry, but he hesitated.

“It’s all right. I won’t do anything you don’t want, I swear.” Harry held out his hand. “We could just sleep.”

It seemed like an odd request, but Severus could not refuse the pleading in Harry’s voice. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to. He took the proffered hand and let himself be pulled back into the bed.

“Is it all right if I take this off?” Harry asked, tugging at the unfastened robe draped over Severus’ shoulders.

For whatever reason, it was clear that Harry wanted to, so Severus nodded. Naked once more, he was ushered under the quilt. He lay stiffly on his back, hoping he wasn’t taking up too much space. How could Harry possibly think they could sleep like this?

Harry turned on his side and cuddled up next to Severus, throwing a leg and an arm over him and resting his head on his upper arm. Pressing a kiss to Severus’ shoulder, he asked, “This all right?”

Severus simply moved his unoccupied arm to rest on Harry’s side. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.


	9. Chapter 9

The first thing Harry became aware of was that Severus was already awake. His bedmate’s thin body was pressed lightly against his back, curled around him, and Severus was trailing a finger down Harry’s arm.

Harry groaned and heaved a sigh, like he was just drifting up from sleep.

Severus stiffened immediately and snatched his hand away. After a moment, he began to slowly ease away from Harry.

Harry held back a disappointed sigh. He turned to face Severus, who was already sliding out of the bed.

“Severus?”

He stilled, one foot on the floor and the rest of him still in bed.

“I, er…” Harry wanted to ask him to stay, but what if he was just off to the loo? What if he’d slept horribly and wanted an hour in his own bed? Maybe he had a potion going that needed attention this morning.

He settled on the obvious. “Are you leaving?”

Severus looked around the room and pursed his lips. Then, he pointed at the clock.

“Time to get up?” Harry guessed.

Severus nodded and reached to the floor for his robes. He folded himself into them before standing straight.

“Did you, erm, sleep well?” Harry asked in a desperate attempt to keep Severus from leaving like that, like he was ashamed or something.

Slowly, Severus inclined his head.

Harry grinned. “Oh, good. Me, too.”

After staring at him for a moment, Severus once again nodded his head then turned to exit the room.

XXXXX

Severus decided to spend the day brewing. He’d start making up potions if he had to, but he was staying in the lab.

He was aghast at the things he had told Harry. A few St. Mungo’s employees and Simeon Maverick knew the beginning, and the Dark Lord and a handful of Death Eaters knew the end, but no one except Lucius knew the whole story.

In twenty-six years, he’d never willingly told a soul. Well, up until last night when he’d gone and spilled all his secrets. Gods, he might as well have said he was a thirty-nine-year-old virgin! 

What had possessed him? Had he truly been so worried about disappointing Harry?

When the third cauldron exploded in his face, he decided perhaps the afternoon was best spent preparing ingredients.

As he crushed, shredded, and vacuum-sealed, his mind continued to reel, thoughts flitting in and out like flutterbies.

The way Harry had looked at him that morning, so open and pleased. The way Harry had been so angry on his behalf, as no one had before. The way his own body had responded to Harry’s looks and touches and words so eagerly, so easily, as if it were completely natural.

When he sliced open his index finger for the second time, he settled on taking notes.

 _Was_ it natural? Harry had seemed rather pleased at the time, so perhaps it was. Surely, though, the constriction in his chest and the ache in his belly and the tingling in his extremities were not usual. 

Obviously, there was something wrong with him.

Harry startled him when he came to say that dinner was ready. Severus glanced down at his notebook, only to find the paper blank but for an inkblot the size of a Sickle. He hurriedly closed the book and followed Harry upstairs.

After a mostly-silent dinner, Severus sat in a corner of the sofa with a book in his lap. He tried to focus on the words, but his mind kept drifting to the man a few feet away from him. 

He did not understand Harry. He had taken in one of his greatest enemies, a man he had hated for years, and nursed him back to health with no expectation of anything in return. He had kindness overflowing in him, but thought he would make an unfit father. He was absolutely beautiful in his bashful resoluteness and determined blundering, but for some reason, when anything and anyone was his for the asking, he wanted to be close to Severus.

“It’s getting late,” Harry said, eyes down. “I was… I’m going to bed soon. You, erm…”

Severus stared at him, willing him to form a coherent thought.

“You could come with me. If you wanted.”

Severus clenched his jaw so as not to gape or sputter and tried to get his bearings. He pulled out his little notebook. #To sleep?#

Harry bit his lip. “Yeah.”

#You want that?#

“Look, if you don’t want to, I under – ”

Severus cut him off with a stiff shake of the head. #I’ll join you momentarily.#

XXXXX

Harry had only thought he was frustrated before. After a week of sleeping chastely with Severus, he was ready to murder someone if it meant a break in the maddening stagnation.

Sometimes he would wake up in the night and find Severus petting his hair or tracing the contours of his shoulder or just staring at him. It always lit a fire inside Harry, seeing Severus like that, open and wanting him. Or curious, at the very least.

But Severus would invariably pull away when he saw that Harry was awake. Most of the time, he simply closed his eyes and rolled over like nothing had happened, but if it was late enough, he’d get up and start his day. Harry wanted to grab him and shake him, ask him what in the name of the founders was holding him back, but he was afraid to push too hard.

It did not escape Harry’s attention that he hadn’t had any nightmares since Severus started sleeping in his bed. Or not bad ones, anyway. None that woke him. He wasn’t totally certain, but he didn’t think Severus had, either.

Surely that must mean something, that they were good for each other, _right_ for each other, that they were better when they were together. Of course, anytime he tried to talk about their new sleeping arrangements, Severus would sneer and call him a sentimental fool, so maybe he was just imagining things.

XXXXX

Severus was anxious. He kept himself from fidgeting with monumental effort, but feared it was showing anyway. He’d made a decision and the tentative beginnings of a plan to see it through, but he could not stop his mind from playing out various scenarios of how he might fail spectacularly.

When it got to be their habitual bedtime, Harry stood and moved toward the hallway. Contrary to recent custom, however, he did not pause on the way and ask Severus to join him.

Severus stared after him until he had almost disappeared down the hall, then rushed after him. He stopped in the doorway and held out a note.

#What are you doing?#

“Going to bed. It’s getting late,” Harry answered.

Severus searched for a proper response, but in the end, only wrote, #Oh.#

His dejection must have shown in his face, because Harry looked at him askance. “Did you actually _want_ to come with me? I was starting to think maybe you were just doing it, I don’t know, to humor me or something.”

#No, I do! I had intended to# Severus stopped writing abruptly, but Harry had been reading along.

“Oh?” Harry asked with a cautious smile, “Is that what you were worried about all evening? You were… planning something?”

Severus shook his head, then nodded, then looked away and sighed. It seemed he was not cut out for this sort of thing.

Harry reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, letting his fingers linger on Severus’ jaw. “What was it you wanted to do?”

He pursed his lips and did not answer.

“It’s all right, you can tell me. Anything.”

Severus wondered if he would ever cease making a fool of himself in front of this man. He thought it unlikely. #I was going to kiss you.#

Harry beamed. “You still can, you know.” He started stroking his fingers up and down Severus’ neck, making him shiver, and leaned closer. “I promise to kiss back,” he murmured, so close that Severus could feel his breath against his lips, “I promise.”

Unable to resist, Severus took the invitation. After a few tentative touches, the kiss quickly grew heated. He felt desperate, but for what he was not certain. He tried to concentrate on what was happening, to really pay attention, but his mind would not focus.

In fact, he didn’t even realize Harry had unfastened both their flies until he wrapped his hand around their bare cocks and squeezed them together.

He let out a low, desperate moan and clutched at Harry’s shoulders. His hips were rocking of their own accord and he panted into Harry’s hair.

“Oh, Severus, yes…”

And then, before he even noticed it building, he was coming. Merlin, was it supposed to happen so fast? Harry kept gently squeezing throughout his orgasm, until Severus leaned back slightly and looked down between them.

He was surprised, and oddly pleased, to see that Harry’s prick was slowly softening as well. Harry’s hand still rested against their cocks, glistening, covered in both their seed. Severus couldn’t tear his eyes away from it.

Too soon, Harry cast a cleaning spell and the mess vanished. 

“Did you, er, still want to…?” Harry trailed off and waved his hand toward his bedroom, biting his lip.

Severus swept his arm forward, palm up, gesturing ‘after you’.

XXXXX

“Hey now, love, it’s all right, you’re okay,” Harry cooed. He brushed his hand through Teddy’s hair in a hopefully soothing manner. 

He and Severus had begun to catalogue Teddy’s repertoire of hair colors. Red meant he was angry or upset; deeper red was for pain. When he was hungry, it turned blue. It went white when he was happy and wanted to play. When he slept, it was mousey brown.

At the moment, it was green. Green was not on the list.

“What’s wrong, sweet boy?” he murmured, lightly bouncing the baby on his hip. “I’ve got you, it’s all right.”

“Severus, I don’t know what’s wrong!”

#Maybe he’s tired. Put him down, let him rest.#

“But…” Severus glared. “Oh, all right.”

Harry laid Teddy down on his blanket on the sitting room floor, and he immediately sicked up a puddle of oatmeal-colored goo.

“Oh, ew.”

Severus made a soft, distressed noise and rushed forward, hands out. By the time he got there, Teddy was smiling and grabbing at his own toes. Severus stopped short and smoothed his hands down his robes, flattening imaginary wrinkles.

“Huh. I guess green is for indigestion, then?”

XXXXX

The baby was staring at Severus.

They were alone in the sitting room, as Harry was working in the shop. He’d probably be down there for another couple of hours, at least. It was not such a long time, really. They’d be fine, as long as Ted didn’t stare at him the entire time.

Severus stared back.

The baby was perched in his ‘bouncy chair’, as Harry had called it. His hair had been mostly white since the oatmeal incident, for which Severus was thankful.

But what was he supposed to do with the child for the next few hours? Andromeda was at St. Mungo’s again for a series of tests, the purpose of which she had not disclosed, and would not return for the boy until much later.

He eyed the baby speculatively. Ted was waving his little fists about and smiling his three-toothed smile. Severus waggled his fingers back at him and caught one side of his mouth twitching upward before he could stop it. He may not know what to do with the boy, but he had to admit that he was not all that put out at having to care for him.

After a few more minutes of mutual staring, Ted started to fuss.

Severus picked him up and checked his diaper. No, not the problem. He sat back down and settled the boy against his chest, the chubby little legs sprawling over his lap. He gave him a little bounce, which seemed to do the trick.

What to do now. Normally, he spent at least some time each morning practicing, but today he wasn’t alone. He could stand to skip it for just one day, surely?

Severus shook his head, displeased with himself. After all, the boy was barely a toddler. He would not notice Severus’ faltering speech, much less judge him for it. He would hardly go running off to tell his grandmother about it, or even worse, Harry. Severus gave him a preemptive scowl, just in case.

He opened his mouth, but hesitated. Clearing his throat, he began again.

“Onthe upon a dime, youw father twied do kiwl me…”

XXXXX

Severus was watching him again. Harry had no idea what time it was, but it was still dark out. Severus, whose body was stretched out tantalizingly close behind Harry’s, brushed a finger lightly across Harry’s hip. Ah, that must be what had woken him.

Harry lay very still, trying to give the appearance of sleep. He had hoped that after their encounter in the hallway a few days back, Severus might loosen up a bit. Unfortunately, Severus seemed determined to act like it had never happened.

He never initiated physical contact unless Harry was asleep, and the moment Harry woke, he pulled away.

Harry’s first instinct was to wonder what he had done. That, needless to say, got him nowhere, and he tried to assume that if he had done something wrong, Severus would’ve told him.

He sometimes fancied he could see longing in Severus’ gaze. Was he imagining it?

Severus shifted a bit, and Harry felt something graze his arse. He held his breath… Surely not?

Severus groaned.

He was! Severus was hard!

Harry must’ve given himself away in his excitement, because Severus suddenly rolled away from him.

“No, Severus, I…” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and gruff with arousal. He turned over to face him. “You don’t have to go away.” 

Reaching over, he guided Severus’ head around to face him. “You could stay. I could take care of that for you.”

Severus whimpered.

“You like that.” Not waiting for a response, he leaned in and kissed him.

When he pulled back, breathless, he asked, “Is it all right if I do?” while running his palm down Severus’ chest.

Expressive eyebrows furrowed in confusion and perhaps a small amount of trepidation, but Severus nodded.

Wasting no time, Harry repositioned himself and gave Severus’ cock a lick. Severus shouted an incoherent monosyllable and twisted his fingers into Harry’s hair.

Harry grinned as he opened his mouth wide and swallowed down his glistening, pink prick. There would be time for long and drawn out later; for now, he just wanted to hear more of those lovely sounds.

And he did. Every time he swiped his tongue across Severus’ slit or swallowed with the head lodged in his throat or squeezed his bollocks just so, he was rewarded with moaning and writhing and beautifully contorted grimacing.

After far too short a time – next time was for leisurely, he reminded himself – he felt Severus tensing, then he was twitching and pulsing in his mouth. Harry drank down the hot, bitter offering with relish.

When Severus’ fists unclenched, taking several of Harry’s hairs with them, Harry clambered up his body to kiss him.

Severus’ chest was still heaving a bit and his eyelids drooped. Harry found it altogether adorable.

He waved a hand toward Harry’s midsection and raised a half-hearted eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about me,” Harry assured him, snuggling up beside him satisfied, if unsated. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” 

XXXXX

They were having breakfast when the owl came.

Harry stared at the parchment for a long while, much longer than it should’ve taken to read it twice over, apparently impervious to Severus’ attempts to will him to look up. Severus cleared his throat, and still Harry paid him no mind. He was beginning to worry.

Cautiously, he reached out and covered Harry’s hand with his own, and Harry’s head snapped up. His eyes were wild.

“She died,” he croaked.

#Who?# Severus penned hastily.

“An-Andromeda. She died!” He waved the letter. “It’s from her… her lawyer. He says she died last night.”

#What happened? Was she ill?# It seemed likely, with all the visits to St. Mungo’s, but she’d never come right out and said what she was suffering from.

“Tiber-Fenn’s disease. She…” Harry bit his lip. “Severus, she named me Teddy’s guardian.”

Severus felt his stomach lurch. #That’s wonderful, Harry.#

“Is it? I… I don’t…” He trailed off, his face twisting into a grimace.

#Of course. Ted will be lucky to have you for a father.#

“I have no idea what I’m doing! What if I… if I… I don’t know, but I’ll mess him up!”

#I’ll be here with you, Harry. Calm down,# Severus implored.

Harry blinked. “You will? You’ll help me?”

#You know I will. I’ll always be here for you. I will never leave you.#

When Harry gaped, Severus looked back down at his note and flinched. Had he really said that? Where was his brain?

“Do… do you mean it?”

He hesitated for a moment, but Harry’s pained eyes were pleading with him. #If it is your wish.#

“Severus, I… Well, yes, but… I don’t… Not…”

Severus could feel himself getting colder as Harry stuttered, fumbling about for an answer.

“I don’t want you to stay with me just because of the baby.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. #I would have stayed anyway. For as long as you wish.#

Harry beamed. “Oh!” He shot a quick glance back down at the letter and bit his lip. “That’s, erm… yeah. Good.”

XXXXX

Severus was in Harry’s room - _their_ room, actually, as his old one was being set up for the baby – practicing. A few choice sounds were still frustrating the hell out of him, but he was improving immensely, even if he did say so himself. Of course, he still had quite a bit of work to do.

What he wanted to know was why in the name of the founders there were so many alveolar consonants in one simple phrase. One thing he wanted to say, and it had to involve some of the most troublesome sounds.

If he could articulate it in, say, French, that would take care of one of his problem spots. But really, French just wouldn’t do. He supposed it could be worse – imagine trying to say it in Greek!

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming himself for one more try.

There was a knock at the door.

“Severus?” Harry called through the still closed door. “The social worker was just here, she – ”

Severus pulled the door open and Harry stopped mid-sentence, giving an audible gulp. He led the way down the hall to the room that was now Ted’s, and Severus followed silently.

They stopped in the doorway and Harry spoke softly. “He’s tuckered out from all the activity. Fell straight to sleep.” He took a few steps closer to the cot. “Merlin, Severus, he’s so small.”

Severus moved to stand next to Harry. After a moment’s debate, he raised a hand and gave Harry’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I… I’m scared, Severus. What if I’m pants at this?”

He pulled out his notebook. #Don’t be stupid. He could have no better parent than you.#

“Except his real ones,” Harry said sadly.

#That is no longer possible. They would be pleased to know you are here for him.#

“I guess so. This just feels too good to be true.”

Severus had been thinking the same thing for weeks now, but he kept that to himself. He tucked his notebook into his robes and squeezed Harry’s shoulder again.

“We should let him sleep. He’ll need his energy – Hermione’s already planning play dates,” he said with a small smile, and they turned to leave.

Before they got to the door, they were stopped short by Ted pulling himself to a standing position by the railing in his cot.

“Hey, look who’s awake!”

The baby bounced and smiled. Severus wished he were half that cheerful on waking. He tried to be irritated, but was largely unsuccessful.

The baby reached one chubby hand out toward Harry. “Pa pa pa!”

Harry froze. “No, sweetie. I’m… I’m not…”

Severus scribbled quickly. #You are. He’s right. You’re his Papa now.#

“He… he doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Harry insisted.

#That may be. But the fact remains.#

Harry gave a pained smile. “Maybe. I… Thanks, Severus.”

Severus acknowledged him with a nod. Yes, Harry was Ted’s Papa now, and Ted was his son. So where did that leave him?

XXXXX

Harry let himself collapse onto the bed. “Merlin, I’m exhausted. That kid is gonna be the death of me.”

Severus carefully placed his bookmark and laid his book on the bedside table.

“It’s only been a week, and I already feel like I haven’t slept in a month!” He glanced over and caught the ghost of a smile on Severus’ lips. “Yeah, he’s a treat though, isn’t he?” he said with an answering smile.

He leaned against the headboard next to Severus and pulled the blanket over his lap. “I’m so glad you’re here. I wouldn’t be able to do this by myself.”

Severus answered with a stiff nod, his eyes averted. 

“Really, Severus,” Harry insisted. He stroked a hand down a stubbled cheek and guided his face around. “I’m so glad you’re here with me.” He let his fingers trail down Severus’ neck and across his shoulder.

Severus shuddered and let a soft sigh escape his lips.

“You like it when I touch you like this?” Harry murmured, brushing his fingers through the course hair on Severus’ chest.

Severus’ cheeks tinged pink, and he looked away again.

“No, don’t be embarrassed. I like touching you.” To reinforce the message, he rubbed his palm over Severus’ nipple, relishing the gasp it elicited. He leaned over his bedmate and pressed an insistent kiss into his thin lips. 

Severus’ arms came around Harry, but as soon as his palms touched Harry’s back, he snatched them away. Harry grabbed one hand and placed it back against his skin. “It’s okay. I like it when you touch me, too.”

Severus tentatively moved his fingers along the ridges of Harry’s spine, and Harry moaned. “Yes, like that.”

He moved to cover Severus’ pale body with his own. “Is this okay?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Severus nodded, and Harry let his weight rest on Severus. They shared another intense kiss, which Harry was glad to note Severus participated in more, then Harry began kissing and licking his way down Severus’ body.

When he was nearing his destination, his nose buried in the wiry hair at Severus’ groin, his progress was suddenly halted. Severus shook his head and grasped at Harry’s shoulders, pulling him back up. 

“What is it?” Harry asked, worried he’d done something to make Severus uncomfortable.

Severus opened his mouth then closed it with a click of his teeth. He bit his lip and, with a furrowed brow as if concerned he might be doing something wrong, spread his legs wide, letting Harry’s hips nestle between his thighs.

“Oh, Merlin,” Harry groaned. “Is this…? Are you…? _Severus_.” His hips thrust of their own accord, and he let his head fall onto Severus’ bony shoulder. “Please, I…”

Severus bent his knees up, cradling Harry’s lower body. Harry felt a hand brush his hair and looked up to see Severus’ face. His eyes were dilated and his cheeks were flushed. He moved his head in a jerky nod and Harry could trace the path of anticipation coursing through his body at the prospect.

He summoned lube from his bedside table and kissed Severus hard. “Merlin, Severus, you’re so gorgeous, absolutely magnificent,” he babbled, panting. “I can’t wait to be inside you, feel you clenching around me. I want to hear you moaning, see you all incoherent with pleasure.”

Severus whimpered and rocked his hips up.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, trying to uncap the lube with trembling fingers. “Is this really what you want?” 

In answer, Severus snatched the pot out of his hand and took the top off himself, then handed it back.

Harry smiled. “Right. Okay.” He slicked his fingers and slipped his hand down between them. He first spread some over his cock, to lessen the possibility of totally embarrassing himself in a few minutes, then reached lower. He paused to give Severus’ lightly furred bollocks a little squeeze and continued to his target.

Severus’ hands clenched in the sheets when Harry stroked over his entrance, smearing it with lube. Carefully, Harry pushed a finger inside, gently thrusting in and out. Once it was sliding easily, he crooked and twisted it, searching until he found the right spot.

“Nng!” Severus groaned and started rocking his body.

“Yes, that’s it,” Harry hissed, pressing another finger into Severus’ entrance. “You’re so hot, so tight. Does that feel good?” He added a third finger, thrusting gently, determined to get the gracefully writhing man beneath him as loose as possible.

“I – uhnnn…” Severus reached down and pulled Harry’s hand away.

“Now?”

Severus nodded, chest heaving.

“Pull your knees back for me.” He did, and Harry groaned at the sight of Severus spreading himself wide for him. He snatched his pillow and shoved it under Severus’ hips to help position him.

He took a moment to drink in the desire plain in Severus’ face, then carefully pushed the head of his cock through the tight ring of muscle.

Severus gasped and clenched his teeth.

“Bear down,” Harry implored, “Push back against me.” Severus took his advice, and Harry eased farther in. He rocked his hips gently, trying to restrain himself until Severus was ready for more. Gradually, he began to thrust harder and deeper, canting his hips this way and that until he heard Severus groan. 

Merlin, he’d never felt anything so incredible! And the wondrous look Severus was giving him certainly didn’t hurt. He steadied himself on one hand and wrapped the other around Severus’ leaking prick.

“Oh, my… Ah!” Severus bucked and wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist, grasping at Harry’s shoulders with insistent hands. 

Harry did his best to squeeze in time with his thrusts, desperate to give Severus as much pleasure as possible. He was getting close, though, and his rhythm began to falter. “Severus, I… Merlin, I’m not going to last much longer. You feel so _good_.”

Severus moaned and tightened his legs around Harry, stroking his fingers up and down Harry’s back and sides. Moments later, his cock suddenly twitched and orgasm rippled through Severus’ body.

Feeling Severus clench and pulse around him, Harry started thrusting wildly. “Oh, sweet… Fuck! Severus!” he gasped as he spilled himself inside his lover.

He fell limply onto Severus, groaning when his spent prick slipped out. Harry was panting, and he could feel Severus’ chest heaving under him. They lay tangled in a sweaty heap and caught their breath.

“Fucking hell, Severus,” Harry muttered. “That was amazing. I can’t wait to feel you inside me,” he added with a contented sigh. He shifted a bit so he wasn’t crushing Severus anymore and twisted his head so he could see the man’s beautifully flushed face.

His lips curved in a slight smile, Severus threaded his fingers through Harry’s damp hair. “I…” He cleared his throat and swallowed, then started again. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry stilled as he ran the carefully enunciated words through again in his head and gaped. He tried to say something, but all he could do was sputter. He brought a hand up to Severus’ mouth, as if trying to determine if it had spoken the truth.

Under his fingers, Severus’ little smile grew into a grin. Harry nodded frantically, hoping to convey what he seemed unable to say.

Severus nodded back once then pressed a kiss to Harry’s lips and, drawing Harry closer and curling around him, settled in to go to sleep.

XXXXX

**Epilogue**

Harry sat in his chair, trying to balance his account book. 

Five-year-old Teddy came barreling into the sitting room. “I brushed-ed my teeth!” he announced, and promptly flung himself onto the couch next to Severus.

“Brushed,” Severus corrected automatically.

“Brushed,” Teddy dutifully repeated.

“That’s great, Teddy. I’m proud of you,” Harry assured him.

“I even brushed the bottoms, too, Papa!” 

“Good job!”

Teddy quirked his mouth, considering, and his hair slowly went from white to brown. “How come I get to call you Papa, but I have to call him Sev’rus?” he asked, nudging Severus with his leg.

Severus’ eyes widened and his fingers clenched against his book. He said nothing.

“Well, you don’t _have_ to have call him that. Is there something else you’d like to call him?”

“Can’t I call him Papa, too?”

Harry watched Severus’ eyes flutter closed. “That might be confusing, calling us the same thing, don’t you think? How would we know who you were talking to?”

Reluctantly, Teddy nodded.

“Can you think of anything else?”

Teddy bit his lip in concentration and Harry found himself holding his breath. After an endless moment, Teddy grinned. “I got one!”

“That’s great,” Harry answered carefully.

Teddy jumped up and ran over to Harry. “Love you, Papa!” he cried, flinging his arms around the parts of Harry he could reach, which turned out to be mostly knees. Then he turned and rushed back over to the couch, launching himself into Severus’ lap. Straddling Severus’ legs, he pecked him on the cheek and said, “I love you, Daddy.”

Harry could hear Severus’ gasp from across the room. When the man just sat there, stunned and silent, Harry waved his hand in an attempt to snap him out of it.

Severus blinked and raised a hand to brush through Teddy’s hair. “I love you, too, son,” he said softly. “But now it’s time for bed.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Harry chimed in. “Why don’t you go get under the covers and we’ll come tuck you in in a moment?”

Teddy pouted, but went without fuss.

As soon as he was out of the room, Harry rushed to sit next to Severus. He raised a hand to rest on his shoulder. “All right?”

Severus finally turned his head to face Harry, blinking rapidly, and Harry moved his hand up to gently stroke the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Severus?”

Severus swallowed thickly. “Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“He… I don’t deserve this! I can’t believe he actually…”

Harry smiled. “I know. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It’s like we’re finally…” Severus broke off. “I know that words do not change anything, but…”

“It’s like we’re a real family, now,” Harry supplied, pulling Severus into a tight embrace.

Severus nodded against Harry’s shoulder and clutched him harder.

“And we always will be,” Harry added resolutely. 

Severus nodded again. “Yes.”


End file.
